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THE  HIPPODROME 


RACHEL  HAYWARD 


THE 
HIPPODROME 


BY 

RACHEL  HAYWARD 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1913, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


TO 

EDYTH  AND  ARTHUR  APPLIN 

WITH  LOVE  AND  HOMAGE. 


*  Car  vois-tu  chaque  jour  je  t'aime  davantage, 
Aujourd  'hui  plus  qu  'hier,  et  bien  moins  que  demain." 

(Rosemonde  Rostand) 


2136215 


THE  HIPPODROME 


THE   HIPPODROME 


CHAPTER  I 

"Aujourd'hui  le  primtetemps,  Ninon,  demain  1'hiver. 
Quoi !  tu  nas  pas  1'etoile,  est  tu  vas  sur  la  mer !  " 

DE  MUSSET. 

COUNT  EMILE  POLESKI  was  obliged  to  be  at  the 
Barcelona  Station  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
one  hot  Friday  in  May.  His  business,  having  to 
do  with  that  which  was  known  to  himself  and  his 
associates  as  "  the  Cause,"  necessitated  careful  at- 
tention, and  required  the  performance  of  certain 
manoeuvres  in  such  a  way  that  they  should  be  un- 
observed by  the  various  detectives  to  whom  he  was 
an  object  of  interest. 

He  looked  round,  scowling,  till  he  found  the  man 
he  wanted,  and  who  was  to  all  outward  appear- 
ances the  driver  of  one  of  the  row  of  fiacres  that 
waited  outside  the  station.  Cigarettes  were  ex- 
changed, and  a  tiny  slip  of  paper  passed  imper- 
ceptibly from  hand  to  hand,  then  tie  turned 

I 


2  THE  HIPPODROME 

ostensibly  to  watch  the  incoming  train  from  Port- 
Bou.  As  he  was  on  the  platform  it  would  be  better 
to  look  as  if  he  had  come  to  meet  someone,  and  as 
he  had  nothing  particular  to  do  just  then  it  would 
make  a  distraction  to  watch  the  various  types  of 
humanity  arriving  at  this  continental  Buenos  Ayres, 
the  city  of  romance,  anarchy,  commerce  and  varied 
vices. 

Emile  Poleski  called  it  V entresol  de  I'enfer,  and 
certainly  he  was  not  there  by  his  own  choice.  It 
was  the  centre  of  intrigue,  and  to  intrigue  his  life, 
intellect,  and  the  little  money  he  had  left  from  his 
Polish  estates,  were  devoted.  To  him  life  meant 
"  The  Cause,"  and  that  exigeant  mistress  left  little 
room  for  other  and  more  natural  affections. 

In  his  career  women  did  not  count,  at  least  they 
did  not  count  as  women.  If  they  had  money  to 
spend,  or  brains  and  energies  that  could  be  utilised, 
that  was  a  different  matter.  He  had  a  trick  of 
studying  people  as  one  studies  natural  history 
through  a  microscope. 

It  was  all  very  interesting,  but  when  one  had 
done  with  the  specimens  one  threw  them  away  and 
looked  about  for  fresh  material. 

The  train  came  in,  slackened  speed  and  stopped, 
and  its  contents  resolved  themselves  into  little 
groups  of  people  all  hunting  with  more  or  less  ex- 


citement  for  their  luggage,  and  porters  to  convey 
the  same  to  cabs. 

The  figure  of  a  girl  who  had  just  alighted  and 
was  standing  alone,  caught  and  held  his  roving  eyes. 
The  pose  of  her  abnormally  slim  body  had  all  the 
grace  of  a  figure  on  a  Grecian  vase  in  its  clean  curves 
and  easy  balance. 

Her  head  was  beautifully  set  upon  a  long  throat, 
and  her  feet  were  conspicuously  slender  and  delicate 
in  their  high  French  boots  of  champagne-coloured 
kid.  Her  face,  which  as  far  as  he  could  see  was 
of  a  startling  pallor,  was  obscured  by  a  white  lace 
veil  tied  loosely  round  her  Panama  hat,  and  left 
to  fall  down  her  back  in  floating  ends ;  and  she  wore 
a  rather  crumpled,  cream-coloured  dress. 

She  stood,  looking  round,  as  if  uncertain  how 
to  act,  evidently  in  expectation  of  someone  to  meet 
her.  No  one  appeared  and  she  moved  off  in  search 
of  a  porter.  Emile  followed  at  a  reasonable  dis- 
tance. Books  he  found  desperately  dull,  but  hu- 
manity in  any  shape  or  form  was  attractive  to  him, 
and  the  girl's  appearance  appealed  to  a  deeply  em- 
bedded love  of  the  exotic  and  mysterious. 

He  watched  with  cynical  amusement  as  she  tried 
to  explain  her  wishes  in  French  to  a  porter,  who 
spoke  only  the  dialect  of  Catalonia.  Her  voice 
finally  decided  Emile  on  his  line  of  conduct.  Low- 


4  THE  HIPPODROME 

pitched  it  was,  with  subtle  inflections,  and  with  a 
hoarseness  in  the  lower  notes  such  as  one  hears  in 
the  voices  of  Jewish  women. 

A  woman,  whose  vocal  notes  were  of  that  en- 
chanting timbre,  was  likely  to  prove  interesting. 

He  advanced  a  few  steps  nearer,  saying  in 
French,  "  I  speak  the  language.  Can  I  be  of  any 
use?" 

The  girl  turned,  giving  him  a  comprehensive 
glance,  and  bowed  slightly  in  acknowledgment. 

"  Many  thanks,  Monsieur!  I  know  scarcely  any 
Spanish.  Perhaps  you  would  tell  me  where  one 
could  get  lodgings.  It  seems  rather  hopeless  for 
this  man  and  myself  to  continue  arguing  in  different 
languages,  so  if  you  would  not  mind  — " 

When  they  were  both  in  the  fiacre  she  did  not 
speak,  but  leaned  back,  her  hands  in  her  lap,  her 
feet  crossed,  looking  straight  in  front  of  her  with 
hazel-green  eyes,  expressionless  as  those  of  the 
Sphinx.  Count  Poleski  congratulated  himself  in 
silence  over  his  discovery.  Here  was  a  woman  so 
unique  that  she  asked  no  questions,  did  not  volun- 
teer after  the  manner  of  most  women  a  flood  of 
voluble  information,  apparently  took  everything 
for  granted,  and  was  in  no  way  embarrassed  by 
himself  or  his  company. 


THE  HIPPODROME  5 

In  some  respects  she  appeared  a  young  girl,  but 
her  composure  was  certainly  not  youthful. 

"  So  you're  out  from  England,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  From  Paris,"  she  answered  him  serenely. 
"  I'm  Arithelli  of  the  Hippodrome."  There  was  a 
girlish  pride  in  her  accents,  and  she  looked  at  him 
sideways  to  observe  the  effect  of  her  announce- 
ment. 

"Ma  foi!  So  it's  that,  is  it?  Then  I've  heard 
something  about  you.  I  know  the  Manager  pretty 
well.  He  said  you  were  un  peu  bizarre." 

"  Pent  etre  plus  qu'un  peu,"  Arithelli  retorted 
quickly.  "  I  see  you  think  he's  right." 

Arrived  at  the  lodgings  she  sat  still,  waiting  in 
the  cab  with  the  same  apparent  indifference  while 
Emile  wrangled  with  the  landlady.  At  length  he 
came  back  to  her :  "  You  had  better  try  these  for 
a  week,"  he  said.  "  They're  forty  pesetas.  She  will 
want  the  rent  in  advance  as  you  have  no  recommen- 
dation." For  the  first  time  Arithelli  seemed  dis- 
turbed. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  pay  it.  I'm  to  have  five 
pounds  a  week  at  the  Hippodrome,  but  of  course  I 
can't  ask  for  that  in  advance.  I  had  a  second-class 
ticket  out  here,  and  now  I've  only  got  four-and- 
sixpence  left." 


6  THE  HIPPODROME 

She  held  out  a  small  blue  satin  bag,  displaying  a 
few  coins.  "  Perhaps  I'd  better  go  and  explain 
to  the  Manager."  Emile  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
Obviously  the  girl  was  very  young. 

"On  the  whole  I  think  you'd  better  not,"  he 
said.  "  You  know  nothing  about  either  myself  or 
the  Manager,  and  it  seems  you've  got  to  trust  one 
of  us  so  it  may  as  well  be  me." 

When  he  had  arranged  matters  he  departed,  say- 
ing casually,  "  I'll  come  in  again  to-night  about  nine 
o'clock  to  see  how  you  are  getting  on.  Don't  do 
anything  insane,  such  as  wandering  about  the 
streets,  because  you  feel  dull.  It  won't  hurt  you  to 
put  up  with  the  dulness  for  a  bit.  You'll  have  plenty 
of  excitement  if  you're  going  to  live  in  Barce- 
lona." 

"  Tiens!  "  said  Arithelli  to  herself.  "  What  man- 
ners and  what  dirty  nails!  C'est  un  homme 
tponvantable,  but  very  useful.  But  for  him  I 
should  have  been  prancing  round  this  place  all  night, 
looking  for  rooms." 

She  dragged  her  trunk  towards  her,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  unpack  the  collection  of  gaudy  dresses 
that  she  had  bought  with  so  much  pride  at  the 
Bon  Marche  in  Paris,  and  which  were  all  in  the 
worst  possible  taste. 

Perhaps  she  had  been  impelled  to  a  choice  of 


THE  HIPPODROME  7 

lively  colours  as  being  symbolical  in  their  bright- 
ness of  the  new  life  on  which  she  was  about  to 
embark.  There  was  a  green  cloth  rendered  still 
more  hideous  by  being  inlet  with  medallions  of  pink 
silk,  a  cornflower  blue  with  much  silver  braid  al- 
ready becoming  tarnished  in  the  few  times  it  had 
been  worn,  and  a  mauve  and  orange  adorned  with 
flamboyant  Eastern  embroidery. 

When  she  had  tumbled  them  all  out  they  showed 
a  vivid  patch  of  ill-assorted  tints.  Arithelli  shivered 
as  she  sat  back  on  her  heels  on  the  floor,  and  looked 
round  the  sordid  room.  The  excitement  of  her  ar- 
rival had  worn  off,  and  the  element  of  depression 
reigned  supreme  in  her  mind.  Certainly  the  apart- 
ment, which  was  supposed  to  be  a  bed-sitting-room, 
but  which  was  merely  a  bedroom,  was  not  enliven- 
ing to  contemplate.  No  carpet,  dirty  boards,  a 
large  four-poster  bed  canopied  with  faded  draperies 
against  the  wall  facing  the  window.  There  was  a 
feeble  attempt  at  a  washstand  in  a  small  alcove 
on  the  left,  furnished  with  the  usual  doll's  house 
crockery  affected  on  the  Continent, —  no  wardrobe 
and  no  dressing  table. 

It  all  looked  hopeless,  she  told  herself  disgustedly. 
Surely  there  were  better  rooms  to  be  found  in  Barce- 
lona for  forty  pesetas  a  week!  Either  lodgings 
must  be  very  dear  or  else  Emile  Poleski  had  meant 


8  THE  HIPPODROME 

to  take  a  large  commission  for  his  trouble  in  find- 
ing them ! 

She  was  stiff  and  tired  after  the  long  journey  and 
want  of  proper  food,  and  every  trifle  took  upon  it- 
self huge  dimensions.  She  was  daintily  fastidious 
as  to  cleanliness,  and  everything  seemed  to  her 
filthy  beyond  belief.  The  universal  squalor  cus- 
tomary in  Spanish  life  had  come  as  an  unpleasant 
shock. 

When  she  started  from  Paris  she  had  conjured 
visions  of  a  triumphal  entry  into  her  new  career. 
Now  she  felt  rather  frightened  and  desperately 
lonely,  and  the  horrible  room  appeared  like  a  bad 
omen  for  the  future.  But,  she  reflected,  after  all, 
things  might  have  been  worse.  She  had  found  one 
friend  already.  Certainly  he  had  disagreeable  man- 
ners, especially  after  the  artificial  and  invariable 
politeness  of  the  Frenchmen  she  had  met  while 
travelling,  but  at  least  he  promised  to  be  useful. 
She  picked  herself  up  off  the  floor  and  began  to 
consider  the  disposal  of  her  garments.  Three  or 
four  wooden  pegs,  the  only  accommodation  to  be 
seen,  were  obviously  not  sufficient  to  hold  all  her 
clothes. 

Presently  there  was  an  interlude,  provided  by  the 
advent  of  the  landlady.  Her  dishevelment  ac- 
corded well  with  the  general  look  of  the  house; 


THE  HIPPODROME  9 

her  slippers  clicked  on  the  carpetless  boards  at  every 
shuffling  step,  and  she  carried  a  half-cold,  slopped- 
over  cup  of  coffee.  To  Arithelli's  relief  the  woman 
was  mistress  of  a  limited  amount  of  French  patois, 
and  in  answer  to  a  demand  for  a  wardrobe  of  some 
kind,  said  she  would  send  up  her  son.  He  was  a 
carpenter  and  would  doubtless  arrange  something. 
She  gave  a  curious  glance  at  the  girl's  witch-like 
beauty,  a  mixture  of  suspicion  and  barely-admitted 
pity  in  her  thoughts. 

As  to  Emile's  share  in  the  drama  she  had  nat- 
urally formed  conclusions.  After  a  respectable  in- 
terval her  son  arrived,  and  having  delivered  himself 
of  a  remark  in  Spanish  and  being  answered  in 
French,  proceeded  to  hammer  a  row  of  enormous 
nails  into  the  wall  at  regular  intervals.  Arithelli 
sat  upon  her  trunk,  which  she  considered  cleaner 
than  the  chairs,  and  watched  the  process,  her  green 
eyes  assuming  a  curious  veiled  expression,  a  hank  of 
copper-tinted  hair  falling  upon  her  shoulders. 

There  was  something  uncanny  in  her  capacity  for 
keeping  still,  and  she  had  none  of  the  usual  and 
natural  fidgetiness  of  a  young  girl.  In  whatever 
position  of  sitting  or  standing  she  found  herself  she 
was  capable  of  remaining  for  an  indefinite  period. 

When  the  carpenter's  manipulations  had  ceased 
she  hung  up  her  dresses  carefully,  put  the  fest  of 


io  THE  HIPPODROME 

her  things  back  into  the  trunk,  as  being  the  safest 
place,  and  sitting  down  again  began  to  cry  in  a  low, 
painful  way,  utterly  unlike  the  light  April  shower 
emotion  of  the  ordinary  woman. 

Here  she  was  in  Barcelona,  and  the  fulfilled  de- 
sire seemed  likely  to  become  already  Dead  Sea  fruit. 
Supposing  she  got  ill,  or  failed  to  satisfy  the  audi- 
ence. She  would  see  her  name  to-morrow  when  she 
went  out  in  large  letters  on  the  posters  of  the  Hippo- 
drome : 

"  Arithelli,  the  beautiful  English  equestrienne," 
and  underneath  some  appalling  picture  of  herself 
in  columbine  skirts,  or  jockey's  silk  jacket  and  cap 
and  top  boots. 

She  had  been  crazy  with  delight  over  her  suc- 
cess in  getting  the  engagement  from  the  manager  in 
Paris,  and  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  that  her  ap- 
pearance had  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  her  having 
been  accepted.  She  had  signed  a  contract  for  a 
year;  and  looking  forward  a  year  seemed  a  very 
long  time.  There  had  been  opposition  at  home. 

Her  father  had  said,  "  I  don't  approve,  but  at  the 
same  time  I  don't  know  in  the  least  what  else  you 
can  do.  It's  Hobson's  choice.  [You  can  ride,  and 
you've  got  looks  of  the  sort  to  take  in  a  public 
career." 

Her  mother  had  been  frankly  brutal.     Now  that 


THE  HIPPODROME  11 

there  was  no  money,  she  said,  she  could  not  have 
three  great  girls  at  home  doing  nothing.  She  had 
given  them  all  a  good  education  and  they  must  try 
and  make  some  use  of  it.  Neither  of  the  younger 
sisters,  Isobel  and  Valerie,  were  old  enough  to  do 
anything  for  themselves,  so  Arithelli  at  the  age  of 
twenty-four  had  taken  her  courage,  which  was  the 
indomitable  courage  of  her  race,  in  both  hands,  and 
launched  herself  on  the  world.  The  bare-backed 
riding  of  her  early  days  in  Galway  had  proved  a 
valuable  asset,  and  there  was  not  a  horse  she  could 
not  manage. 

Her  slim  figure  seemed  born  to  the  saddle,  and  her 
nerve  was  as  yet  unshaken. 

The  man  who  had  engaged  her  had  been  more 
than  a  little  astonished  at  the  composure  with  which 
she  showed  off  the  horses'  paces,  and  went  through 
various  tricks.  As  she  was  young  and  inex- 
perienced, he  would  get  her  cheaply;  she  could  be 
taught  all  the  stereotyped  acts  with  very  little 
trouble,  and  her  morbid  style  of  beauty  would  be 
a  draw  in  Spain. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  English  miss  about  her 
appearance  and  few  people  would  have  believed 
her  to  be  only  twenty-four.  She  had  no  freshness, 
no  beaut 2  de  diable.  Her  beauty  was  that  of  line 
and  modelling.  Her  quietness  was  partly  the  result 


12  THE  HIPPODROME 

of  a  convent  education.  An  old  Irish  nun  had  told 
her  once  that  good  looks  were  a  snare  and  a  delu- 
sion of  the  Devil,  and  that  hers  would  never  bring 
her  happiness. 

At  least  they  had  got  her  an  engagement,  and  a 
circus  had  always  represented  to  her  the  very  height 
of  romance. 

She  wondered  how  she  could  manage  for  money 
till  she  got  her  five  pounds  next  Friday.  It  was 
lucky  that  all  her  habits,  and  so  on,  were  provided 
by  the  management.  She  wished  to-morrow  would 
arrive,  for  she  felt  eager  to  begin  work,  and  see 
the  horses.  She  had  quite  forgotten  all  about 
Emile's  promised  visit,  and  was  just  pulling  down 
the  rest  of  her  hair  preparatory  to  getting  ready  for 
bed,  when  he  walked  in  without  any  preliminary 
knock. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on  ?  All  right  ?  "  Then 
after  a  momentary  inspection  of  the  many  garments 
that  festooned  the  dirty  walls,  he  added :  "  I  don't 
think  you've  got  very  good  taste  in  clothes !  " 


CHAPTER  II 

"All  women  are  good;  good  for  something,  or  good  for 
nothing." 

CERVANTES. 

THE  next  morning  Emile  made  his  entrance  with 
the  same  complete  disregard  of  ceremony.  Ari- 
thelli  was  still  in  bed  and  only  half  awake.  She 
raised  herself  slightly  and  looked  at  him  with  sleepy 
eyes. 

"  Oh!  "  she  said.  "  I  didn't  hear  you  knock." 
There  was  the  same  entire  lack  of  embarrassment 
in  her  manner  that  she  had  shown  on  the  previous 
night.  Almost  before  she  had  finished  her  sentence 
she  shut  her  eyes  again,  and  leant  back  yawning.  It 
seemed  a  matter  of  the  greatest  indifference  to  her 

whether  he  was  there  or  not.     Emile's  interest  rose 

.  ••  • 

by  several  degrees  as  he  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed. 

"  I  didn't  knock,"  he  said,  speaking  English 
fluently  enough,  but  with  the  hard,  clipped  accents 
of  the  Slav.  "  I  can't  bother  about  all  that  hum- 
bug. If  you're  straight  with  me  I'll  be  straight  with 
you,  and  we  may  as  well  be  friends.  I  dare  say  you 

13 


14  THE  HIPPODROME 

think  you're  very  good-looking  and  all  that,  but  it 
doesn't  make  any  difference  to  me.  You're  here, 
and  I'm  here,  so  we  may  as  well  be  here  together." 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  Arithelli  replied,  "  but  I'm  always 
so  stupid  and  sleepy  in  the  mornings.  Do  you  mind 
saying  it  all  over  again  ?  " 

And  very  much  to  his  own  surprise  Emile  Poleski 
repeated  his  remarks.  It  struck  him  that  there  was 
something  of  the  boy,  the  gamin,  about  her  in  spite 
of  her  exotic  appearance.  That  was  so  much  the 
better  and  would  suit  admirably  .with  his  schemes 
for  her.  It  was  better  that  she  should  not  be  too 
much  of  a  woman;  for  in  the  realms  of  anarchy 
there  is  no  sex,  though  comradeship  is  elevated  to 
the  dignity  of  a  fine  art. 

For  chivalry  and  love  making  there  is  neither  the 
time  nor  the  desire,  and  those  who  are  wedded  to 
La  Liberte  find  her  an  all-sufficient  idol  for  pur- 
poses of  worship.  Human  life  is  held  of  small  ac- 
count, to  join  the  Cause  being  equivalent  to  the 
signing  of  one's  own  death  warrant.  One  would 
probably  have  to  die  to-morrow  if  not  to-day,  and 
whether  it  were  sooner  or  later  mattered  little. 
Emile's  fierce  devotion  to  the  cause  of  his  oppressed 
country  had  been  the  means  of  leaving  him  stranded 
in  Barcelona  at  the  age  of  forty,  without  hopes, 
illusions  or  ideals.  His  estates  in  Russia  had  been 


THE  HIPPODROME  15 

confiscated,  his  parents  were  dead,  the  woman  he 
had  loved  was  married. 

Now  he  lived  in  a  dirty  back  street,  in  a  single 
room,  on  two  pounds  a  week,  morbid,  suspicious, 
cynical,  keeping  his  own  counsel,  owning  no 
friends,  and  occupying  body  and  brain  with  plots, 
secret  meetings,  ciphers  and  the  usual  accompani- 
ments of  intrigue.  The  Brotherhood  consisted  of 
fifteen  men,  though  occasionally  the  number  varied. 
Two  or  three  would  disappear,  another  one  come. 
There  was  no  feminine  element.  An  Anarchist  sel- 
dom marries.  To  him  a  woman  is  either  a  machine 
or  the  lightest  of  light  episodes. 

Emile  had  not  the  least  desire  to  make  love  to 
the  girl  whom  he  had  for  his  own  purposes  be- 
friended. He  was  a  quick  and  subtle  judge  of  char- 
acter, and  had  seen  at  a  glance  that  in  her  he  would 
find  a  study  of  pronounced  interest.  Also  she  might 
prove  of  some  utility.  It  was  one  of  the  tenets  of 
the  fraternity  to  which  he  belonged  never  to  waste 
any  material  that  might  come  to  hand.  In  the  finely- 
cut  face  before  him,  with  its  Oriental  modelling  and 
impassivity,  he  read  brains,  refinement  and  endur- 
ance. Her  hair  was  plaited  in  two  long  braids,  and 
drawn  down  over  her  ears,  showing  the  contour  of  a 
sleek,  smooth  little  head. 

She  had  relapsed  into  silence  after  disposing  of 


16  THE  HIPPODROME 

the  slovenly  meal  he  had  induced  the  landlady  to 
provide.  The  only  thing  that  seemed  to  worry 
her  was  the  superfluous  dirt  that  adorned  the 
cups. 

At  length  she  spoke : 

"And  what  sort  of  a  place  is  this  Barcelona?  " 

"  L' entresol  de  I'enfer,"  answered  Emile  curtly. 
"  What  are  your  people  doing  to  allow  you  to  come 
here  alone?" 

"  They  don't  know  I  am  here.  I  ran  away,  you 
see.  If  I  get  on  well,  I'll  write  and  let  them  know, 
and  if  not — " 

" AlorsT" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  But  I  will  get  on.  Don't 
you  think  I  ought  to  make  a  success  at  the  Hippo- 
drome?" 

Emile  ignored  the  naive  conceit  of  the  last  re- 
mark. "  But  what  are  you  doing  at  the  Hippo- 
drome at  all  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  am  riding,"  she  answered  with  an  elfish  smile 
in  which  her  eyes  took  no  part. 

"  Obviously !  What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
dejeuner?  The  landlady  won't  bring  you  up  all 
your  meals." 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  unconcerned  answer. 

"  You'll  have  to  go  to  one  of  the  cafes,  and  you 
had  better  let  me  show  you  which  are  the  most  de- 


THE  HIPPODROME  17 

sirable  ones.  Enfin!  have  you  any  intention  of  get- 
ting up  this  morning?  " 

Arithelli  yawned  again.  "  I  suppose  I  must  go 
round  and  present  myself  to  the  Manager.  I'm  to 
rehearse  a  fortnight  before  I  make  my  appearance 
in  public." 

"  Then  I  had  better  come  with  you,"  Emile  re- 
plied with  decision.  "  As  I  told  you  yesterday,  I 
know  the  Manager  fairly  well." 

An  hour  later  they  walked  together  through  the 
streets  on  their  way  to  the  Hippodrome.  Emile 
was  a  bad  advertisement  for  the  secrecy  of  his  pro- 
fession, for  he  looked  a  typical  desperado.  His 
velvet  coat  had  the  air  of  having  been  slept  in  for 
weeks,  and  had  certainly  never  been  on  terms  of 
acquaintanceship  with  a  brush;  and,  besides  the 
usual  Anarchist  badge,  a  red  tie,  a  blood  red  car- 
nation flamed  defiance  in  his  buttonhole. 

Under  a  battered  sombrero  he  scowled  upon  the 
world;  a  dark  skin,  fierce  moustache,  and  arching 
black  eyebrows  over  hard,  grey  eyes. 

There  are  few  people  who  look  their  parts  in 
life,  but  Emile  might  without  addition  or  alteration, 
have  been  transferred  to  the  stage  as  the  typical 
villain  of  a  melodrama. 

Arithelli  had  arrayed  herself  in  the  cornflower 
blue  frock,  which  she  carried  with  a  negligent  ease, 


i8 

and  she  still  wore  the  Panama  hat  with  the  flow- 
ing veil.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  the  only  piece 
of  headgear  she  possessed;  for  she  had  been  reck- 
less over  dresses  and  boots  in  Paris  and  had  found 
herself  drawn  up  with  a  jerk  in  the  midst  of  her 
purchases  by  her  small  stock  of  money  coming  to 
an  abrupt  end. 

Of  her  carriage  and  general  deportment,  which 
were  noticeably  good  even  among  Spanish  women, 
Emile  approved.  The  crude  blue  of  her  dress,  the 
tags  and  ends  of  tinselled  braid  set  his  teeth  on 
edge.  In  his  "  Count  Poleski  "  days  he  had  known 
the  quiet  and  exquisite  taste  of  the  mondaines  of 
Vienna  and  St.  Petersburg,  and  like  most  men  he 
preferred  dark  clothes  in  the  street.  Later  on  he 
proposed  to  himself  the  pleasure  of  supervising  her 
wardrobe,  except  her  boots,  which  met  with  his 
fullest  approbation. 

He  noticed  that  she  did  not  talk  much  but  ob- 
served in  silence.  He  felt  that  nothing  escaped 
those  heavy-lidded,  curious  eyes.  "  Is  everything 
dirty  in  Spain  ?  "  she  said  at  last. 

"  How  fussy  you  are  about  dirt !  "  retorted  Emile 
disagreeably. 

"  Yes.  My  mother  is  a  Jewess,  you  know.  I 
expect  we  notice  these  things  more  than  the  dirty 
Gentiles." 


19 

Her  calm  assertion  of  the  superior  cleanliness 
of  the  tribe  of  Israel,  amused  Emile,  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  hear  the  usual  contempt  of  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking races  for  anyone  possessing  a  strain 
of  Jewish  blood.  So  it  was  the  Jewess  in  her  that 
accounted  for  her  haunting  voice. 

The  Manager  was  a  hatchet- faced  and  haggard 
man  who  looked  as  if  he  went  to  bed  about  once 
a  week,  on  an  average,  and  existed  principally  on 
cigarettes  and  absinthe.  The  simultaneous  arrival 
of  Emile  and  Arithelli  roused  him  from  his  normal 
condition  of  bored  cynicism  to  comparative  anima- 
tion. 

Like  the  landlady  he  naturally  made  his  own  con- 
clusions. 

"When  did  you  arrive?"  he  demanded  of  Ari- 
thelli. Emile,  not  being  afflicted  with  a  sense  of 
the  necessity  for  elaborate  explanation,  removed 
himself  a  few  paces  and  began  to  roll  a  cigarette. 

Arithelli  stood  her  ground,  listened  to  the  com- 
ments on  her  appearance  which  the  Manager  felt 
himself  entitled  to  use,  returned  his  cynical  survey 
with  a  level  glance,  and  answered  his  questions  with 
an  unruffled  composure. 

It  was  arranged  that  she  should  rehearse  every 
day  for  two  hours  in  the  morning,  and  another  two 
hours  between  the  afternoon  and  evening  per- 


20  THE  HIPPODROME 

formances.  For  the  first  act  she  could  wear  a  habit 
of  any  colour  she  cared  to  choose,  and  a  smart  hat ; 
for  the  second  act,  which  included  jumping  over 
gates,  and  the  presence  of  the  inevitable  clown,  she 
would  have  to  wear  short  skirts. 

"  They  won't  suit  me,"  she  said.  "  You  see  how 
long  and  thin  I  am,  and  look  at  my  long  feet.  I 
shall  look  a  burlesque." 

The  Manager  glared  at  her. 

"  I  quite  believe  you  will,"  he  snapped.  "  I  sup- 
pose you  think  you're  going  to  do  the  leaping  act  in 
a  court  train  and  feathers !  Is  there  anything  more 
you  would  like  to  suggest?  " 

The  intended  sarcasm  was  not  a  success.  Ari- 
thelli  considered  gravely. 

"  I  don't  think  so,  thank  you,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  But  if  I  do  think  of  anything  else  I'll  tell  you. 
And  I  should  like  to  see  the  horses." 

She  was  filled  with  a  genuine  delight  by  the  four 
cream-coloured  pure-bred  Andalusians,  El  Rey, 
Don  Quixote,  Cavaliero  and  Don  Juan.  They 
turned  intelligent  eyes  upon  her  as  she  entered  their 
stalls,  neighing  gently  as  if  they  recognised  a 
friend.  Both  the  men  experienced  the  same  feel- 
ing of  surprise  at  her  evident  knowledge  and  under- 
standing of  animals.  In  five  minutes  she  had 


21 

shown  that  she  knew  as  much  about  their  harness 
and  food  as  a  competent  groom. 

The  astute  Manager,  upon  whom  no  sign  of 
intelligence  was  wasted,  saw  a  good  opportunity  for 
getting  a  little  extra  work  out  of  his  youthful  lead- 
ing lady.  He  informed  her  that  she  must  be  down 
at  the  stables  every  morning  at  eight  o'clock  to  in- 
spect the  horses  and  see  them  fed  and  watered.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  the  inspection  should  have  been 
one  of  his  own  duties,  but  the  girl  was  not  likely 
to  cavil  at  any  little  additional  work  that  had  not 
been  exactly  specified  in  her  contract.  Besides,  if 
she  did,  he  could  soon  make  it  uncomfortable  for 
her.  Arithelli  made  no  objection.  Though  she 
hated  getting  up  early  she  would  never  have 
grudged  a  sacrifice  of  comfort  made  on  behalf  of 
any  animal.  When  all  the  business  was  completed, 
Emile  took  her  to  the  Cafe  Colomb  for  lunch. 

Before  they  left  he  knew  the  details  of  her  his- 
tory. 

The  big  house  in  Ireland,  with  its  stud  of  horses 
and  unlimited  hospitality,  and  the  rapidly  vanish- 
ing fortune.  Her  mother,  a  Viennese  by  birth,  a 
cosmopolitan  by  travel  and  education,  a  fine  horse- 
woman, and  extravagance  incarnate.  Her  father, 
good-natured,  careless,  manly,  as  sportsmanlike  and 


22  THE  HIPPODROME 

unbusinesslike  as  most  Irishmen.  When  his 
horses  died  he  bought  more,  keeping  always  open 
house  for  a  colony  of  men  as  shiftless  and  as  easy- 
going as  himself. 

As  the  children  grew  up  the  money  became  less 
and  less.  They  were  sent  to  Convent  schools  in 
France  and  Belgium,  then  to  cheap  schools  in  Eng- 
land. 

At  length  the  final  crash  came,  and  the  big, 
picturesque,  rambling  house  in  Galway  was  sold, 
and  they  came  to  London  with  an  infinitesimal  in- 
come partly  derived  from  the  grudging  charity  of 
relatives. 

Arithelli  cleaned  the  doorsteps  and  the  kitchen 
stove,  blackleaded  the  grates  and  prepared  the  meals, 
which  more  often  than  not  consisted  only  of  po- 
tatoes and  tea. 

Their  mother,  who  hated  all  domestic  work,  and 
could  never  be  induced  to  see  that  their  loss  of 
money  was  due  to  her  own  extravagance,  retired 
to  bed,  where  she  spent  her  days  in  reading  Plato 
in  the  original,  and  writing  charming  French  lyrics. 

When  Arithelli  ran  away  she  had  gone  straight 
to  an  old  friend  of  her  mother's,  the  widow  of  an 
ambassador  in  Paris.  She  had  made  up  her  mind 
to  earn  her  own  living.  She  would  carve  out  for 
herself  a  career.  Having  decided  that  riding  was 


THE  HIPPODROME  23 

her  most  saleable  accomplishment,  she  had  gone 
round  to  the  riding  school  where  the  managers  of 
the  Hippodromes  of  Vienna,  Buda-Pesth  and  Barce- 
lona waited  to  select  equestriennes. 

Luck,  youthful  confidence,  and  her  tragic,  un- 
youthful  beauty,  had  all  ranged  themselves  together 
to  procure  her  the  much  desired  engagement. 

"  I  made  up  my  mind  to  get  taken  on,"  she  con- 
cluded. "  Et  me  voila!  I  did  all  sorts  of  desper- 
ate jumps  that  day.  I  felt  desperate.  If  I  hadn't 
got  it,  there  was  only  the  Morgue.  I  couldn't  have 
gone  home." 

Emile  listened  in  silence,  and  drank  absinthe  and 
considered. 

That  night  at  a  meeting  of  the  Brotherhood  he 
took  the  leader,  Sobrenski,  aside  and  said: 

"  It  was  decided  the  other  day  that  we  wanted 
someone  to  take  messages  and  run  errands.  Some- 
one who  could  go  unnoticed  into  places  where  it 
would  be  suspicious  for  us  to  be  seen.  You  sug- 
gested a  boy.  Fate  has  been  so  kind  as  to  show 
me  a  woman  who  seems  to  be  in  every  way  suitable 
—  or  at  least  with  a  little  training  she  will  become 
so." 

"  A  woman ! "  echoed  the  other.  "  Are  you 
mad?" 

"  I  conclude  her  to  be  a  woman  because  of  her 


24  THE  HIPPODROME 

clothes.  Otherwise  she  seems  to  be  a  mixture  of 
a  boy  and  wood-elf.  The  combination  appears  to 
me  to  be  a  fascinating  one.  She  is  of  good  family, 
half  Irish,  speaks  three  languages,  asks  no  ques- 
tions, and  seems  to  have  an  extraordinary  capacity 
for  holding  her  tongue.  It  is  on  that  account  that 
I  questioned  her  sex.  Her  appearance  is  exces- 
sively feminine.  Of  course  I  do  not  propose  to 
enrol  her  among  us  at  once.  As  I  have  said  before, 
there  are  many  ways  in  which  a  woman  would  be 
useful." 

Sobrenski  pulled  doubtfully  at  his  reddish, 
pointed  beard.  "  Does  she  know  anything  about 
the  Cause?" 

'*  I  fancy  not,  but  she  appears  to  have  the  right 
ideas,  and  after  I  have  judiciously  fanned  the 
flame !  —  girls  of  that  age  are  always  wildly  en- 
thusiastic over  something  —  so  she  may  as  well 
devote  her  enthusiasm  to  us." 


CHAPTER  III 

"  Out  of  the  uttermost  end  of  things 

On  the  side  of  life  that  is  seamier, 
There  lies  a  land,  so  its  poet  sings, 
Whose  people  call  it  Bohemia. 

"  It  is  not  old,  it  is  not  new, 

It  is  not  false,  it  is  not  true, 
And  they  will  not  answer  for  what  they  do, 
Far  away  in  Bohemia." 

"  Love  in  Bohemia,"  DOLF  WYLLARDE. 

"  I  THINK,"  Arithelli  said  with  deliberation,  "  that 
all  your  friends  are  very  fatiguing.  They  have  such 
bad  tempers,  and  do  nothing  but  argue." 

"  They  live  for  the  serious  things  of  life,"  re- 
torted Emile.  "  Not  to  play  the  fool." 

"  Thanks !  Is  this  one  of  the  serious  things  of 
life,  do  you  suppose?  "  She  stuck  the  large  needle 
with  which  she  had  been  awkwardly  cobbling  a  tear 
in  her  skirt,  into  the  seat  of  a  chair. 

"  What  are  you  doing  that  for  ? "  demanded 
Emile. 

"  Oh,  pardon,  I  forgot."  She  extracted  the 
needle.  "  I  don't  think  I'm  unwomanly  but  I'm 
not  a  good  sewer.  Emile!  don't  you  think  we 

25 


26  THE  HIPPODROME 

might  have  some  music?  I  really  am  beginning  to 
sing  '  Le  Reve'  quite  well." 

Her  education  in  Anarchy  had  commenced  with 
the  teaching  of  revolutionary  songs.  Emile,  who 
was  himself  music-mad,  had  discovered  her  to  be 
possessed  of  a  rough  contralto  voice  of  a  curious 
mature  quality.  It  would  have  been  an  absurd 
voice  for  ballads  in  a  drawing-room,  but  it  suited 
fiery  declamations  in  praise  of  La  Liberte! 

They  were  sitting  in  Emile's  room  now,  for  they 
made  use  of  each  other's  lodgings  alternately,  and 
there  was  a  battered  and  rather  out-of-tune  piano. 
Sometimes,  after  the  evening  performance,  there 
would  be  a  gathering  of  the  conspirators,  all  more 
or  less  morose,  unshaven  and  untidy;  and  while 
Emile  played  for  her,  Arithelli  would  stand  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  her  green  eyes  blazing  out  of 
her  pale  face,  her  arms  folded,  singing  with  a 
fervour  which  surprised  even  her  teacher,  the  lovely 
impassioned  "  Reve  du  prisonnier  "  of  Rubinstein. 
She  was  always  pleased  with  her  own  performances, 
and  not  in  the  least  troubled  with  shyness.  Also 
she  was  invariably  eager  to  practise.  She  shook 
down  her  skirt,  went  across  to  the  piano  and  began 
to  pick  out  the  notes. 

"  S'il  faut,  ah,  prends  ma  -vie. 
Mais  rends-moi  la  liberte! " 


THE  HIPPODROME  27 

Emile  was  sewing  on  buttons.  Though  he  did 
not  look  in  the  least  domesticated,  he  was  far  more 
dexterous  at  such  work  than  the  long-fingered  Ari- 
thelli.  In  fact  it  was  only  at  his  suggestion  that 
she  ever  mended  anything  at  all. 

"  Do  you  ever  by  chance  realise  what  you  are 
singing  about  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  I'm  a  red  hot  Socialist.  I've 
read  Tolstoi's  books  and  lots  of  others.  I  got  in 
an  awful  scrape  over  political  things  just  the  little 
time  I  was  in  Paris.  It  was  when  the  Dreyfus 
case  was  on.  Madame  Bertrand  was  terrified  at 
the  way  I  aired  my  opinions.  You  see  politics 
are  so  different  abroad  to  what  they  are  in 
England." 

Emile  agreed.  The  girl  was  developing  even 
more  than  he  had  hoped. 

"  Ah !  This  is  the  first  time  I've  ever  heard 
about  your  political  opinions." 

'''  You've  never  asked  me  before.  One  doesn't 
know  everything  about  a  person  at  once." 

Again  Emile  agreed.  Then  he  said  abruptly, 
"  Well,  if  you  have  all  these  ideas  you'd  better  join 
the  Cause." 

"I'd  love  to!  Shall  I  have  to  go  to  meetings 
with  Sobrenski  and  all  the  rest  of  them?" 

"  Probably.     But  you'll  not  be  expected  to  talk. 


28  THE  HIPPODROME 

You  may  be  told  to  do  some  writing  or  carry  mes- 
sages." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "     She  seemed  rather  disappointed. 

Emile  felt  for  a  moment  almost  inclined  to  de- 
velop scruples.  She  evidently  regarded  Anarchy 
at  large  as  a  species  of  particularly  exciting  diver- 
sion. 

"  Who  are  the  other  women  mixed  up  with  it  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  There  are  no  other  women.  You  should  feel 
honoured  that  we  are  having  you." 

Emile  stood  up,  having  completed  his  renovating 
operations.  "  You  want  to  sing,  eh  ?  "  Arithelli 
assented  eagerly.  "You  will  work?"  Emile  de- 
manded. 

"  Yes ! "  Her  eyes  had  become  suddenly  like 
green  jewels,  and  she  looked  almost  animated. 
She  was  more  interested  in  Emile's  music  than  in 
any  other  part  of  him.  His  wild  Russian  ballads 
sung  with  his  strange  clipped  accent  and  fiery  em- 
phasis, fascinated  her.  She  was  content  to  listen 
for  an  indefinite  period  of  time,  her  long  body  in 
a  restful  attitude,  her  feet  crossed,  her  hands  in 
her  lap,  as  absolutely  immovable  as  one  who  is 
hypnotised. 

Emile,  for  his  part,  was  equally  interested  in  her 
exploits  in  vocalism,  which  he  found  as  extraor- 


THE  HIPPODROME  29 

dinary  and  unexpected  as  everything  else  about  her. 
Her  singing  voice  was  so  curiously  unlike  her 
speaking  voice  that  it  might  have  belonged  to  an- 
other person.  It  had  tremendous  possibilities  and 
a  large  range,  but  it  was  hoarse  ancfnarsh,  and  yet 
full  of  an  uncanny  attraction.  In  such  a  voice  a 
sorceress  of  old  might  have  crooned  her  incanta- 
tions. Where  did  this  girl  get  her  soul,  her  pas- 
sion, he  wondered;  she  who  was  only  just  begin- 
ning life. 

He  flung  over  an  untidy  pile  of  music,  and 
dragged  out  the  magnificently  devilish  "  Enchante- 
ment "  of  Massenet.  "  Try  this,"  he  said  abruptly. 
"  It's  your  kind  of  song." 

For  half-an-hour  he  exhorted,  bullied  and  in- 
structed, losing  both  his  composure  and  his  temper. 
Arithelli  lost  neither.  "  I  don't  understand  music," 
she  observed  calmly.  "  But  show  me  what  to  do 
and  I'll  do  it.  Mine's  a  queer  voice,  isn't  it?  A 
regular  croak." 

"You've  got  a  voice;  yes,  that's  true,  but  you 
don't  know  how  to  produce  it,  and  you've  no 
technique.  You  want  plenty  of  scales." 

"  Wouldn't  that  take  all  the  rough  off,  and  make 
it  just  like  anyone's  voice?" 

Emile  stared  angrily  at  the  exponent  of  such 
heresy,  and  was  about  to  annihilate  her  with  sar- 


30  THE  HIPPODROME 

casm,  when  he  suddenly  changed  his  mind.  After 
all,  she  was  right.  It  was  what  she  called  "  the 
rough "  that  helped  to  make  her  voice  unlike  the 
voices  of  most  women. 

"  Is  that  your  idea  ?  A  good  excuse  for  being 
lazy!  If  you  don't  sing  scales  then  you  must  work 
hard  at  songs." 

"  Yes,  I  know."  She  put  her  hands  behind  her 
back  and  leant  against  the  piano.  "  There  was  a 
man  in  Paris,  a  friend  of  the  manager.  He  heard 
me  sing  once.  He  knew  I  wanted  to  take  up  a  pro- 
fession, and  he  offered  to  train  me  for  nothing, 
and  bring  me  out  on  the  stage.  I  was  to  sing 
those  queer,  dramatic,  half-monotone  songs  in 
which  one  almost  speaks  the  words.  He  meant  to 
write  them  specially  for  me,  and  I  was  to  wear  an 
oriental  costume.  He  said  that  every  other  voice 
would  sound  fade  after  mine." 

Emile  glanced  at  her  sharply,  but  her  tone  and 
manner  was  both  absolutely  void  of  conceit. 
"  Well,  why  didn't  you  accept  his  offer?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  because  it  was  fated 
I  should  come  here.  He  wanted  me  to  make  my 
debut  at  the  cafes  chantants,  but  I  didn't  like  the 
idea  somehow.  He  said  my  voice  was  only  fit  for 
the  stage,  and  would  sound  horrible  in  a  room." 

Emile  twisted  his  moustache  upwards,  and  his 


THE  HIPPODROME  31 

eyebrows  climbed  in  the  same  direction.  "  So ! 
Do  you  think  then  that  your  life  at  the  Hippodrome 
is  going  to  be  more  what  you  English  call  respec- 
table, than  the  cafes  chantantsf  " 

"There  are  the  horses  here.  If  I  don't  like 
anything  else  I  can  always  like  them." 

Emile  decided  that  the  man  in  Paris  had  been 
apt  in  his  judgment  of  this  fantastic  voice.  Clever 
of  him  also  to  have  noticed  that  she  was  Oriental. 
The  setting  of  her  green  eyes  was  of  the  East.  And 
horses  were  the  only  things  she  cared  about  —  so 
far.  Like  most  people  whose  lives  are  a  compli- 
cated tangle  of  plots,  Emile  was  not  particularly 
interested  in  animals.  His  life,  thoughts  and  en- 
vironment were  morbid,  and  the  dumb  creation  too 
normal  and  healthy  to  appeal  greatly  to  him.  He 
discovered  that  his  pupil  was  able  to  play  in  much 
the  same  inconsistent  fashion  that  she  sang.  With 
a  beautiful  touch,  full  of  temperament  and  expres- 
sion, she  possessed  a  profound  ignorance  of  the 
rudiments  of  music.  She  could  not  read  the  notes, 
she  said,  but  she  could  copy  anything  he  played  if 
she  heard  it  two  or  three  times.  Emile  found  her 
astonishingly  intelligent  as  well  as  amiable,  and 
though  the  music  lessons  were  not  conducted  on 
scientific  principles,  they  produced  good  results. 

He  would  give  her  plenty  of  music  with  which 


32  THE  HIPPODROME 

to  occupy  herself  till  the  time  came  when  she  would 
be  fully  occupied  in  serving  the  Cause.  As  he  had 
said,  there  were  no  other  female  conspirators  in 
their  circle.  Sobrenski,  the  red-haired  leader,  de- 
tested women,  and  thought  them  all  fools,  who  gen- 
erally added  the  sin  of  treachery  to  their  foolish- 
ness. Emile  himself  had  taken  no  interest  in  any 
woman  since  he  had  lived  in  Barcelona.  He  too 
had  found  them  treacherous.  Since  he  had  lost  his 
little  childish  goddess,  Marie  Roumanoff,  he  had  had 
no  desire  to  play  the  role  of  lover.  If  he  wanted 
companionship  he  preferred  men,  for  as  com- 
panions women  bored  him. 

But  Arithelli  was  not  a  woman  —  yet.  She  ap- 
peared able  to  keep  own  counsel,  to  do  as  she  was 
told,  and  to  judge  by  the  way  she  rode,  her  cour- 
age would  be  capable  of  standing  a  severe  test. 
Also  it  had  occurred  to  him  that  she  possessed  the 
art  of  being  a  good  comrade.  It  would  amuse  him 
to  watch  her  develop.  At  present  she  was  full 
,of  illusions  about  the  charm  of  life  in  general. 
Everything  for  her  showed  rose-tinged.  Well,  it 
was  not  his  business  to  dispel  illusions.  At  present 
it  was  all  "  Le  Reve,"  but  after  the  dream  would 
come  awakening.  He  took  care  to  leave  her  very 
little  alone  during  the  first  few  days,  and  ar- 
ranged her  time  according  to  his  own  ideas,  and 


THE  HIPPODROME  33 

escorted  her  backwards  and  forwards  from  her  re- 
hearsals at  the  Hippodrome. 

When  she  was  free  he  took  her  for  long  walks 
up  the  hills  where  they  could  look  down  upon  the 
gorgeous  city,  which,  as  far  as  natural  loveli- 
ness went,  might  have  been  compared  to  Paradise 
rather  than  to  the  Hell  to  which  he  invariably 
likened  it. 

The  beautiful  harbour,  the  dry  air,  the  sun- 
light and  splashes  of  vivid  colour  —  everything  was 
intoxicating  to  her.  She  said  very  little,  but  Emile 
felt  that  she  missed  nothing,  and  lacked  nothing  in 
appreciation.  For  himself  the  place  must  be  al- 
ways hateful,  for  he  was  in  exile.  What  was  the 
golden  sunlight  to  him  when  he  longed  for  the 
snows  and  frozen  wastes  of  Russia,  that  sombre 
country  so  like  the  hearts  of  those  by  whom  it  is 
peopled. 

One  day  he  took  her  for  an  excursion  to  Mont- 
serrat,  three  hours'  journey  from  Barcelona.  They 
left  the  train  at  Monistrol,  and  started  to  walk 
through  the  vineyards  and  pine  woods  towards  the 
famous  mountain  that  towers  up  to  heaven  in  grey 
rugged  terraces  of  rock.  All  round,  for  miles, 
were  undulating  waves  of  green,  here  and  there  the 
brown  towers  of  some  ancient  castle,  or  the  build- 
ings of  a  farmstead;  and  below  on  the  plain  the 


34  THE  HIPPODROME 

glitter  of  the  winding  river.  They  climbed  to  the 
wooded  slopes  of  Olese,  where  they  sat  down  to 
rest.  Arithelli  threw  herself  on  the  short,  dry 
grass,  with  her  arms  under  her  head,  and  drew  a 
long  breath  of  pleasure  and  relief. 

"  I  love  all  this ;  it  makes  me  feel  so  free." 

Emile  sat  with  his  back  against  a  huge  plane  tree, 
and  rolled  cigarettes,  watching  her  under  his  heavy 
eyebrows.  She  looked  in  her  proper  place  here,  he 
thought.  There  was  something  wild  and  animal- 
like  about  the  grace  of  her  attitude. 

"  So  you're  out  of  a  convent?  "  he  said,  hurling 
out  the  remark  with  his  usual  abruptness.  "  Tiens! 
It's  absurd!" 

"  But  it's  true.  Convent  schools  are  cheap,  you 
see,  that's  why  we  were  sent  there.  No,  I'm  not 
a  Catholic.  Most  of  the  girls  made  their  abjura- 
tions, but  I  never  did.  They  told  lies  there,  and 
they  spied.  I  hated  that.  The  nuns  spied  on  the 
children  of  Mary,  and  the  children  of  Mary  spied 
on  the  ones  who  were  not  the  children  of  Mary, 
and — "  she  stopped. 

Emile  told  her  to  continue.  "  I  should  like  to 
hear  more  about  your  —  your  religious  experi- 
ences," he  said.  "  Besides,  it  will  do  you  more 
good  to  talk  than  to  go  to  sleep." 

Arithelli  complied  at  once,  with  unruffled  good 


THE  HIPPODROME  35 

nature.  "  Oh,  of  course  I'll  tell  you  if  you 
like,"  she  said  amiably.  "  I  stopped  because  I 
thought  you  would  probably  be  bored,  ennuye,  you 
know." 

She  described  the  nuns  mumbling  their  prayers, 
and  punctuating  them  with  irate  commands  to  the 
children;  the  many  and  various  rules,  the  Mhe 
Superieure,  the  food,  the  clothes,  the  eccentricities 
of  Monsieur  le  Directeur.  She  had  the  rare  and 
unwomanlike  art  of  witty  description,  though  it  as- 
sorted badly  with  her  tragic  face  and  unsmiling 
eyes.  As  she  talked  her  voice  rippled  and  broke 
into  suppressed  laughter. 

"  It  was  all  rather  dull,  n'est-ce-pas?  "  said  Emile, 
who  felt  more  amusement  than  he  had  any  inten- 
tion of  showing.  "  You'll  find  the  Cause  more  ex- 
citing." 

Before  any  practical  steps  were  taken  to  make 
her  a  member  of  the  band  it  was  necessary  to 
stimulate  her  enthusiasm,  her  imagination.  He 
knew  that  for  all  her  outward  calmness  she  had 
no  lack  of  fire.  The  coldest  countries  sometimes 
produced  the  most  raging  volcanoes. 

"  It's  the  only  thing  you  care  about  —  isn't  it  — 
the  Cause  ?  "  she  said.  "  Tell  me  more  about  it. 
As  I'm  going  in  for  it  I  ought  to  understand.  Of 
course  I  like  anything  that's  '  agin  the  Government.' 


36  THE  HIPPODROME 

All  the  Irish  have  always  been  rebels  and  patriots. 
We've  helped  your  country  too." 

Emile  did  not  require  a  second  invitation  to  in- 
duce him  to  expound  his  views.  "  I  suppose  you 
think  we  throw  bombs  about  by  way  of  a  little  dis- 
traction ? "  he  asked  sarcastically.  "  What  have 

^^*»i»* 

we  suffered  before  we  took  to  throwing  bombs? 
Before  I  came  here  I  saw  men  and  women,  old  and 
young  together,  shot  down  in  the  streets  of  St. 
Petersburg.  Because  they  rioted?  No!  Because 
they  wished  to  offer  a  protest  against  the  brutalities 
of  the  Government  officials.  Are  our  petitions  ever 
read,  our  entreaties  ever  answered?  There  were 
other  things  too,  but  they  didn't  generally  get  into 
the  newspapers.  Women  stripped  in  barrack 
rooms, —  and  that  in  winter, —  the  Russian  winter, 
—  and  beaten  by  common  soldiers.  Not  women 
of  the  streets  and  slums,  but  women  of  the  higher 
classes.  Mock  trials  held  with  closed  doors,  the 
crime, —  to  have  incurred  the  displeasure  of  some- 
one in  favour  at  the  Court, —  the  end, —  Siberia ! 
A  student  is  known  to  be  quiet,  a  great  reader  and 
interested  in  the  condition  of  the  serfs.  He  is 
watched,  arrested,  and  on  the  falsgjevidence  of  the 
police  ends  his  days  in  the  mines.  Entreaties,  rea- 
son, appeal!  Have  we  not  tried  them?  Now  we 
have  only  one  weapon  left  —  retaliation.  Some- 


THE  HIPPODROME  37 

times  we  are  able  to  avenge  our  martyrs.  The  two 
fiends  who  guarded  Marie  Spiridonova  were  shot 
by  the  members  of  her  Society.  She  was  only  a 
girl  too  —  about  the  same  age  as  you.  We  Anar- 
chists do  not  serenade  women  and  make  them  com- 
pliments, but  we  think  it  an  honour  to  kiss  the  hand 
of  such  as  Marie  Spiridonova.  She  was  tortured, 
starved,  outraged,  and  came  through  worse  than 
death  to  be  transported  to  a  convict  settlement. 
Now  she  is  in  the  Malzoff  Prison.  She  will  never 
see  the  world  again,  but  it  may  be  years  before  the 
life  is  ground  out  of  her  by  labour  and  privations. 
Her  case  will  soon  be  forgotten,  except  by  a  few, 
and  thousands  of  other  women  have  gone  the  same 
road.  The  details  of  the  tragedy  may  be  a  little 
different,  the  thing  itself  is  the  same.  One  day  I 
shall  go  back  to  my  own  country.  In  the  meantime 
I  carry  on  the  campaign  here. 

"  It's  a  losing  cause.     But  if  we  lose  we  pay. 
We  don't  ask  for  mercy !  " 


They  sat  together  that  evening  at  a  cafe  on  the 
Rambla,  the  strolling  place  of  the  Spanish  beau- 
ties, who  promenaded  there  in  an  endless  stream, 
with  waving  fans  and  rustling  draperies,  carnations 
and  roses  burning  in  dark,  elaborately  dressed  hair. 


38  THE  HIPPODROME 

Tziganes  made  wild,  witch  music.  At  the  cafes 
people  laughed  and  drank. 

Suddenly  Arithelli  leant  across  the  little  table, 
raising  her  glass.  "  To  the  Cause !  "  she  whispered 
under  her  breath. 

For  an  instant  the  two  pairs  of  eyes  flamed  into 
each  other;  then  those  of  the  man,  hard  and  steel- 
grey,  softened  into  something  like  admiration. 
Their  glasses  clinked  softly  together.  "  To  the 
Cause !  "  he  repeated.  "  Mon  Camarade! " 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  These  were  things   she  came  to  know,  and  to  take  their 

measure, 

When  the  play  was  played  out  so  for  one  man's  pleasure." 

SWINBURNE. 

A  FEW  days  later,  Arithelli  was  duly  initiated, 
and  given  the  badge  of  the  Cause,  a  massive  buckle 
with  a  woman's  figure,  and  on  either  side  the  words 
Honneur  et  Patrie.  At  the  suggestion  of  the  leader 
Emile  had  been  made  responsible  for  her  be- 
haviour. If  she  betrayed  them  in  any  way  his  life 
was  to  pay  forfeit.  There  was  a  fello\yjcpnspira- 
tor  working  with  her  at  the  Hippodrome,  a  young 
Austrian  of  high  rank  named  Vardri.  His  father 
had  turned  him  out  of  doors,  penniless,  because 
of  his  political  views;  and  he  was  now,  half-starved, 
consumptive  and  reckless,  employed  in  harnessing 
the  horses  and  attending  to  the  stables.  There 
were  two  men  under  thirty,  but  the  majority  were 
middle-aged.  They  all  seemed  to  Arithelli  to  have 
the  same  wild,  restless  eyes.  They  called  her 
"  Camarade,"  and  "  Amiga,"  and  treated  her  not 

39 


40  THE  HIPPODROME 

unkindly,  but  with  an  utter  indifference  to  her  sex. 
All  their  sayings  showed  the  most  absolute  disre- 
gard for  human  life. 

"  If  a  vase  is  cracked,  break  it.  If  your  glove 
is  worn  out,  throw  it  away." 

If  they  heard  that  some  member  of  the  band  had 
found  his  way  to  the  fortress  of  Montjuich  there 
was  callous  laughter  and  a  speculation  as  to  whose 
turn  it  would  be  next. 

Their  meetings  were  held  in  divers  places. 
Sometimes  they  would  engage  a  room  at  the  Hotel 
Catalonia  and  hold  what  were  supposed  to  be  classes 
for  astronomy.  Sobrenski  was  the  lecturer,  the 
rest  posing  as  students.  If  anyone  came  in  unex- 
pectedly it  all  looked  beautifully  innocent  —  the 
big  telescope  by  the  open  window,  the  books  and 
papers  and  charts,  and  Arithelli  at  the  desk  at  the 
end  of  the  room  taking  shorthand  notes  of  the 
lecture. 

There  were  seldom  more  than  three  or  four 
rendezvous  held  in  the  same  place,  and  more  than 
once  there  were  alarms  and  rumours  of  a  visit  from 
the  police. 

As  the  days  wore  on  Emile  found  new  reason  to 
congratulate  himself  upon  his  discovery  of  "  Fa- 
talite,"  as  he  had  nicknamed  the  girl.  She  had 
shown  herself  possessed  of  a  charming  temper,  a 


THE  HIPPODROME  41 

fine  intelligence,  and  a  most  complete  understanding 
of  the  law  of  obedience. 

She  made  no  comments  on  anything  she  was 
asked  to  do,  but  delivered  messages  and  ran  er- 
rands after  the  manner  of  a  machine  in  good  work- 
ing order.  Even  Sobrenski,  who  hated  all  women, 
was  obliged  to  admit  her  usefulness. 

She  was  on  pleasant  terms  with  everybody  down 
to  the  strappers, —  the  men  who  harnessed  the  Hip- 
podrome horses, —  who  adored  her.  Even  the  cyn- 
ical Manager  was  impressed  by  her  pluck  and  skill, 
though  he  considered  it  his  privilege  to  regale  her 
with  comments  on  her  personal  peculiarities. 

The  time  arrived  for  her  first  performance  at 
the  Hippodrome.  She  made  her  appearance  in  the 
ring  in  a  turquoise  blue  habit,  trimmed  hussar- fash- 
ion with  much  braid,  and  a  plumed  Cavalier  hat, 
the  dusky  shadows  under  her  eyes  accentuated,  and 
her  face  powdered.  The  Manager  would  not  allow 
her  to  use  rouge,  so  under  the  glaring  electric  lights 
she  appeared  more  than  ever  spiritual  and  un- 
earthly. 

Her  type,  he  said,  did  not  require  colour ;  and  the 
people  preferred  anything  morbid  in  the  shape  of 
looks. 

Emile,  who  was  among  the  audience  on  the  first 
night,  thought  she  looked  like  a  thorough-bred  racer 


42  THE  HIPPODROME 

as  she  made  a  dignified  entrance  to  a  clanging  stately 
gavotte  crashed  out  by  the  band.  He  had  given 
her  dresser  a  couple  of  pesetas  to  have  her  well 
turned  out,  and  the  result  was  exceedingly  satis- 
factory even  to  his  critical  eyes. 

Her  little  head  with  its  piled  red  hair  was  carried 
marvellously  high,  and  she  swayed  daintily  on  the 
back  of  the  high-stepping  Don  Juan.  She  bowed 
gravely  to  the  various  parts  of  the  house,  but  she 
had  no  stereotyped  smile  either  for  the  boxes  or  for 
the  lower  seats.  Her  slender  figure  gave  the  im- 
pression of  great  strength  for  a  young  girl. 

"  Steel  in  a  velvet  sheath,  ma  foif  Body  and 
soul !  "  was  Emile's  inward  comment.  "  So  much 
the  better  for  the  Cause." 

A  Spanish  crowd  usually  gives  but  a  languid  re- 
ception unless  roused  by  something  either  horrible 
or  sensational,  but  her  bizarre  appearance  had  the 
effect  which  the  Manager  had  foreseen. 

In  the  second  act  she  apparently  changed  her  per- 
sonality with  her  clothes,  and  whirled  in  astride 
over  two  horses  with  neither  saddle  nor  bridle, 
guiding  them  and  keeping  them  together  by  the 
pressure  of  her  feet.  She  had  full  skirts,  to  her 
knees,  of  white  satin,  and  pearl-coloured  silk  stock- 
ings. Her  satin  bodice  was  cut  heart-shaped  and 
there  was  a  high  jewelled  band  round  her  long 


THE  HIPPODROME  43 

throat.  Her  hair  hung  down  in  a  thick  plait,  tied 
with  a  bow  of  blue  velvet. 

The  horses  tore  round  the  ring  at  full  gallop ;  she 
jumped  over  gates  and  through  hoops,  and  ended 
her  performance  by  leaping  off  one  of  the  horses 
which  was  caught  by  a  groom,  and  flinging  herself 
on  to  the  other,  face  to  the  tail,  for  a  final  reckless 
canter  round  the  arena. 

The  brilliance  and  nerve  with  which  she  carried 
through  the  trick,  roused  the  enthusiasm  it  de- 
served, and  Arithelli  passed  out  panting  and  tri- 
umphant to  the  accompaniment  of  music  and 
cheers,  and  showered  roses  and  carnations. 

The  part  of  her  work  that  she  most  abhorred  was 
the  eight  o'clock  compulsory  visit  to  the  stables.  A 
circus  life  is  not  prone  to  encourage  the  virtue  of 
early  rising,  and  she  was  by  nature  indolent  in  a 
panther-like  fashion,  and  was  never  in  bed  till 
half-past  one  or  two  in  the  morning.  If  she  had 
known  a  little  more  she  could  have  protested  on 
the  grounds  that  her  position  of  leading  lady  did 
not  involve  the  feeding  of  her  animals.  She  did  it 
as  she  had  done  other  things  without  complaint, 
and  presently  Emile  came  to  the  rescue.  He  knew 
as  much  about  the  habits  and  requirements  of 
horses  as  he  knew  about  shop-keeping,  being  en- 
tirely ignorant  of  both. 


44  THE  HIPPODROME 

"How  much  are  the  brutes  to  have?"  he  asked 
of  the  Manager.  "  And  what  on  earth  do  you  give 
them?" 

"Oh,  I  generally  give  'em  fish,"  was  the  sar- 
castic answer.  "  What  are  you  doing  here,  Po- 
leski?  This  is  the  girl's  business.  I  thought  she 
was  keen  on  her  horses." 

"  She  is  also  keen  on  her  bed,"  Emile  answered. 
"  She  does  her  share  of  work." 

The  Manager  grumbled,  but  the  new  arrangement 
was  allowed  to  stand. 

Arithelli  did  not  consort  with  the  other  female 
members  of  the  Hippodrome. 

The  one  exception  was  Estelle  the  dancer,  with 
whom  Emile  allowed  her  a  slight  acquaintance. 
He  neither  approved  of  women  in  general  nor  of 
their  friendships.  Estelle  was  the  bonne  amie  of 
the  sardonic  Manager,  who  occasionally  beat  her, 
after  which  ceremony  it  was  her  custom  to  drink 
absinthe.  Sometimes,  for  this  reason,  she  was  un- 
able to  appear  on  the  stage.  She  would  come  into 
Arithelli's  dressing  room  and  weep,  and  smoke  in- 
numerable cigarettes,  and  when  things  had  been 
going  well,  they  made  a  partie  carree  at  the  Cafe 
Colomb. 

By  way  of  advertising  herself  and  her  perform- 
ance Arithelli  was  given  a  high,  smartly  painted 


THE  HIPPODROME  45 

carriage  in  which  she  drove  in  the  fashionable 
promenade  of  Barcelona,  the  Paseo  de  Gracia, 
with  three  of  the  cream-coloured  horses  lightly 
harnessed  and  jingling  with  bells. 

On  these  occasions  Emile  played  the  part  of 
lady's  maid  and  escort.  He  selected  her  dress, 
fastened  it,  scolded  her  for  putting  her  hat  on 
crooked,  and  laced  up  her  preposterously  high 
boots. 

Then  he  adjusted  the  battered  sombrero,  lit  a  cig- 
arette and  drove  beside  her,  scowling  as  usual. 

The  appearance  of  both  was  sufficiently  arrest- 
ing. Arithelli  drove  as  she  rode,  recklessly,  and 
yet  with  science.  Her  thin  wrists  and  long  girlish 
arms  were  capable  of  controlling  the  most  fiery  an- 
imal. 

She  had  made  Emile  her  banker,  and  always 
handed  over  to  him  her  weekly  salary,  some  of 
which  went  to  the  expenses  of  the  Cause  as  well  as 
a  certain  portion  in  fines,  for  she  had  no  idea  of 
time  and  was  never  ready  for  anything. 

Nearly  every  night  before  she  was  half-way  into 
her  habit  the  call-boy  came  screaming  down  the 
passage,  calling  with  the  free-and-easy  manners 
prevalent  behind  the  scenes: 

"  Hurry  up,  Arithelli,  or  there'll  be  a  row ! " 

The  question  of  a  disguise  for  her  was  discussed 


46  THE  HIPPODROME 

at  one  of  the  meetings  of  the  Brotherhood,  and  it 
was  decided  that  she  should  appear  as  a  boy.  Her 
height  would  be  an  advantage,  and  her  long  hands 
and  feet  would  also  help  the  illusion  in  a  country 
where  every  woman  possesses  small,  plump  and 
highly  arched  extremities.  Besides,  when  they  had 
to  ride  out  to  places  at  night,  she  would  be  less  no- 
ticeable. One  girl  among  a  crowd  of  men  might 
attract  suspicion,  though  in  the  daytime  she  was 
more  useful  as  a  woman. 

It  naturally  fell  upon  Emile  to  provide  the  de- 
tails of  her  transformation,  and  he  presented  him- 
self at  her  lodgings  one  afternoon,  bearing  an  un- 
gainly parcel  which  he  deposited  on  the  table. 

"  You'd  better  try  these  on/'  he  said.  "  There 
is  a  complete  suit  of  boy's  clothes,  a  wig  and  every- 
thing you'll  want.  You  will  have  to  put  your  own 
hair  out  of  the  way  somehow." 

It  was  the  drowsy  hour  of  the  siesta,  when  no 
one  moved  out  if  he  could  help  it,  and  all  work 
and  play  were  at  a  standstill.  Arithelli  was  sitting, 
as  was  her  custom,  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts 
and  dreams.  For  a  moment  she  stared  with  un- 
comprehending eyes.  She  felt  tired,  she  wanted  to 
be  alone,  and  she  had  not  heard  a  single  word. 
Emile  shrugged  irritably  and  repeated  his  re- 
marks. 


THE  HIPPODROME  47 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Arithelli.  She  rose  slowly,  took 
up  the  parcel  and  retired  into  seclusion  behind  the 
curtains,  with  which  she  had  screened  off  the  al- 
cove and  so  made  herself  an  improvised  dressing 
room.  The  rest  of  the  apartment  she  had  altered 
to  look  as  much  like  a  sitting  room  as  possible, 
with  the  exception  of  the  obtrusive  four-poster, 
which  could  not  be  hidden  and  which  upon  entering 
appeared  the  most  salient  feature  visible.  There 
was  some  tawdry  jewellery  lying  about,  and  several 
pairs  of  the  pale-hued  Parisian  boots  she  invariably 
affected.  Emile  made  and  lighted  the  inevitable 
cigarette,  while  he  fidgeted  about,  turning  over 
the  few  French  and  English  novels  he  could  find 
with  an  air  of  disapproval;  for  her  taste  in  litera- 
ture did  not  commend  itself  to  him  any  more  than 
did  her  taste  in  finery. 

At  one  period  of  his  life  he  had  steeped  himself 
in  books,  knowing  the  poetry  and  romance  of  nearly 
every  nation.  Now  he  disliked  them.  If  she 
wanted  books  he  would  choose  them  for  her.  She 
would  read  the  love-songs  of  the  revolutionists  to 
their  goddess  Liberty,  the  haunting  words  of  those 
who  had  suffered  for  a  time,  and  escaped  the  Si- 
berian Ice-Hell.  The  fanaticism  of  his  race  and 
temperament  flamed  into  his  cold  eyes  as  he  sat 
and  brooded,  and  he  hardly  noticed  that  Arithelli 


48  THE  HIPPODROME 

had  slid  into  the  room  in  her  noiseless  fashion,  and 
was  standing  before  him. 

Emile,  though  little  given  to  being  astonished, 
marvelled  at  the  unconcern  with  which  she  submit- 
ted to  his  critical  inspection.  She  stood  and  walked 
easily,  and  looked  neither  uncomfortable  nor  un- 
natural in  her  boyish  array,  in  which  the  perfect 
poise  of  her  body  showed  triumphantly. 

The  black  wig,  under  which  she  had  skilfully 
hidden  her  red  hair,  made  her  look  more  pale  than 
ever.  The  wide  sombrero,  tilted  backwards,  made 
a  picturesque  framing  to  her  oval  face,  and  the 
mania  or  heavy  cloak,  worn  by  all  Spaniards  at 
night,  hung,  loosely  draped  over  her  left  shoulder. 
Emile  promptly  twisted  it  off. 

"  This  won't  do,"  he  said.  "  The  manta  is 
never  worn  like  that.  Besides  it's  not  enough  of 
a  disguise.  Watch  how  I  put  it  on."  With  a  few 
rough  yet  dexterous  movements  he  arranged  the 
dark  folds  so  as  to  hide  her  shoulders  and  the  up- 
per part  of  her  body. 

Then  he  stood  back  a  few  paces.  "  But  your 
green  eyes!  A  disguise  for  them  will  be  impossi- 
ble. One  sees  them  always." 

"  Les  yeux  verts. 

Vontal'enfer!" 

"  Do  you  know  that,  mon  enfant?  " 


THE  HIPPODROME  49 

"  I've  heard  it  before.  They've  already  come  as 
far  as  I' 'entresol,  according  to  you." 

Emile  grinned.  He  enjoyed  skirmishing,  and 
felt  that  he  had  met  his  match  in  words.  Before 
he  could  think  of  another  retort  she  added : 

"  I  can  see  in  the  dark  with  my  green  eyes,  so 
they're  useful  at  all  events." 

"  Then  you'll  find  plenty  of  use  for  them  when 
you're  working  for  us  —  and  the  Cause.  When 
you  have  to  ride  upon  the  hills  at  night  you  will 
find  them  of  great  service.  You'll  have  to  ride 
astride  too,  so  it  is  better  for  you  in  every  way  to 
be  dressed  like  this." 

Presently  he  left  her  with  a  few  words  of  praise 
for  her  successful  appearance.  His  first  feeling 
of  surprise  at  her  coolness  still  lingered.  He  had 
expected  a  scene  in  a  quiet  way,  a  refusal,  at  least 
expostulation.  All  his  first  impressions  of  her 
were  being  verified.  Well,  he  hoped  she  would 
continue  in  her  present  ways.  Undoubtedly  she 
was  an  original,  certainly  she  gave  no  trouble. 

When  she  heard  the  street  door  shut  Arithelli 
sat  down,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands.  Once  she 
shivered  involuntarily.  Directly  she  found  herself 
alone  the  mask  of  her  assumed  nonchalance  had 
fallen  suddenly.  As  long  as  there  was  an  audience 
she  had  worn  a  disguise  on  her  soul  as  well  as  her 


50  THE  HIPPODROME 

body.  She  had  been  feeling  moody  and  depressed 
all  day,  and  this  last  episode  was  the  climax.  Ev- 
erything she  had  was  to  be  her  own  no  longer.  It 
was  all  to  be  for  the  Cause  —  even  her  green  eyes ! 
What  power  it  possessed  over  these  men.  They 
admitted  it  to  be  a  losing  Cause,  yet  it  was  all  they 
thought  about,  the  sole  thing  for  which  they  lived 
—  and  died.  She  had  not  thought  it  would  be  like 
this  at  first. 

She  remembered  how  gaily  she  had  discoursed  of 
Tolstoi  and  Prince  Kropotkin,  and  of  their  writ- 
ings which  had  revealed  to  her  a  new  world.  Her 
first  interview  with  Sobrenski  had  shown  the  relent- 
lessness  of  the  man  she  was  to  serve.  She  felt 
that  he  would  sacrifice  all  alike,  men  and  women, 
to  his  idol,  and  would  never  stop  to  care  whether 
the  victim  were  willing  or  unwilling.  The  fact  of 
her  sex  would  gain  her  no  consideration  at  his 
hands.  Lately  she  had  been  impressed  with  the 
sensation  of  being  surrounded  by  an  impassable 
barrier  drawn  round  her,  a  circle  that  was  grad- 
ually becoming  narrowed.  She  had  begun  to  know 
that  she  was  being  incessantly  watched.  If  Emile 
were  occupied  with  the  business  of  the  Society,  and 
could  not  fetch  her  from  the  Hippodrome  himself, 
he  never  failed  to  send  an  understudy  in  the  shape 
of  one  of  his  allies,  generally  one  of  the  older  men. 


THE  HIPPODROME  51 

When  she  emerged  from  the  performers'  entrance 
a  silent  figure  would  come  forward  to  meet  her. 
Often  they  exchanged  no  words  throughout  the 
walk  home,  but  she  was  never  left  till  her  own  door 
was  reached. 

If  she  went  anywhere  to  please  herself,  to  a  shop, 
or  to  see  Estelle,  she  was  expected  to  give  a  full  ac- 
count of  her  doings.  It  was  an  understood  thing 
that  she  should  not  go  to  the  cafes  or  public  gardens 
alone,  nor  speak  to  anyone  not  already  known  and 
approved  by  Emile.  With  all  these  conditions  she 
had  complied.  Already  one  illusion  had  vanished. 
She  had  thought  to  find  freedom  in  Barcelona. 
She  had  indeed  found  "  La  Liberte," 
But  the  Fates  had  chosen  to  be  in  an  ironical 
mood,  and  while  making  the  discovery  she  had  her- 
self become  a  slave.  In  all  her  day  there  was  no 
hour  that  she  could  call  her  own. 


CHAPTER  V 

"I  have  gained  her!    Her  Soul's  mine!" 

BROWNING. 

"  You  slouched  last  night  in  the  ring,  Fatalite," 
Emile  said. 

Arithelli  flung  up  her  head.     "I  didn't!" 

"  You  looked  like  a  monkey  on  a  stick,"  pro- 
ceeded Emile  stolidly.  "  You  were  all  hunched 
up.  I  wonder  Don  Juan  didn't  put  you  off  his  back 
on  to  the  tan." 

"  Don  Juan  knows  better !  You  see  animals  are 
usually  more  kind  than  people." 
.  She  was  too  proud  to  admit  that  the  long  hours, 
hard  work,  and  want  of  proper  food  and  sleep  had 
lately  given  her  furious  backaches,  which  were  a 
thing  unknown  to  her  before,  and  a  cause  of  bitter 
resentment.  She  had  a  healthy  distaste  for  illness 
either  in  theory  or  practice.  That  night  she  sat 
Don  Juan  erect  as  a  lance,  passing  Emile  in  his 
accustomed  place  in  the  lower  tier  of  seats  with  a 
shrug  and  scornful  eyebrows. 

She  had  felt  more  than  usually  inclined  to  play 


THE  HIPPODROME  53 

the  coward  during  the  last  few  weeks.  The  heat, 
worry  and  over- fatigue  had  begun,  as  they  must 
have  done  eventually,  to  affect  her  nerves.  When 
she  had  felt  more  than  usually  depressed  and  list- 
less Emile  had  taken  her  to  one  of  the  cafes  and 
given  her  absinthe  which  had  made  her  feel  reck- 
lessly well  for  the  moment,  and  ten  times  more  mis- 
erable the  next  day.  He  had  also  advised  her  to 
smoke,  saying  that  it  was  good  for  people  who 
had  whims  and  fancies,  but  smoking  did  not  appeal 
to  her,  and  she  never  envied  the  Spanish  woman 
her  eternal  cigarette. 

She  felt  as  if  she  would  like  to  sleep,  sleep  for 
an  indefinite  period.  She  was  wearied  to  death  of 
The  Cause,  and  the  Brotherhood,  with  their  in- 
trigues and  plots  and  interminable  cipher  messages. 

She  had  been  three  months  in  Barcelona,  and 
now  fully  justified  Emile's  name  for  her.  Tragic 
as  a  veritable  mask  of  Fate,  she  looked  ten  years 
older  than  the  girl  he  had  met  on  the  station  plat- 
form. 

The  longer  she  worked  for  the  Cause  the  more 
she  realised  that  Anarchy  was  no  plaything  for 
spare  moments,  but  a  juggling  with  Life  and  Death. 

At  first  they  had  given  her  but  little  to  do  —  a 
few  documents  to  copy,  some  cipher  messages  to 
carry.  Then  the  demands  upon  her  leisure  had 


54 

become  more  frequent.  She  found  she  was  ex- 
pected to  make  no  demur  at  being  sent  for  miles, 
and  once  or  twice  there  had  been  dreadful  midnight 
excursions  to  a  hut  up  in  the  mountains. 

The  realisation  of  the  folly  of  trying  to  escape 
from  the  burden  that  had  been  laid  upon  her  af- 
fected her  nerve  and  seat  during  her  performances 
in  the  ring. 

For  the  first  time  she  felt  her  courage  failing 
her  when  she  entered  Sobrenski's  house  in  answer 
to  his  summons.  When  he  had  given  her  the  de- 
spatch she  made  an  objection  on  the  grounds  that 
the  time  taken  in  conveying  it  would  absorb  her 
few  hours  of  rest. 

"  It's  too  far,"  she  protested.  "  I  can't  go  there 
to-day." 

"  Then  you  can  go  to-morrow,"  answered  So- 
brenski  in  the  accents  of  finality.  He  had  never 
cared  about  the  girl's  inclusion  in  their  plots,  and 
took  his  revenge  in  exacting  from  her  considerably 
more  than  his  pound  of  flesh. 

Moreover  he  suspected  her  of  treachery,  and  dis- 
liked her  for  the  quickness  of  her  wit  in  argument. 

Even  his  unseeing  eyes  told  him  she  looked  both 
ill  and  haggard,  but  if  she  were  there,  well,  she  must 
work  like  the  rest  of  them. 

Arithelli  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  when  she 


THE  HIPPODROME  55 

spoke  for  all  her  pluck  her  voice  was  a  little 
rough  and  uneven.  "  I'm  tired  of  being  an  errand 
boy!" 

Sobrenski  looked  at  her,  drawing  his  eyebrows 
together.  Everyone  of  the  band  had  a  nickname 
for  her,  and  his  own  very  unpleasant  one  was 
"  Deadly  Nightshade."  Some  of  the  others  were 
"  Sapho  "  and  "  Becky  Sharp,"  which  latter  Emile 
had  also  adopted  as  being  particularly  appropriate. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  he  answered.  "  Shall  it  be  the 
messages  or  a  bullet?  You  can  take  your  choice. 
Perhaps  you  would  prefer  the  latter.  It  makes  no 
difference  to  me.  This  comes  of  employing  women. 
When  Poleski  brought  you  here  first  I  was  opposed 
to  having  you.  Women  always  give  trouble." 

"  Would  you  have  got  a  man  to  do  half  the  work 
I  do  ?  "  she  flashed  out  with  desperate  courage. 

"Then  do  your  work  and  don't  talk  about  it," 
retorted  Sobrenski  sharply.  "  If  you  are  abso- 
lutely ill  and  in  bed,  of  course  we  can't  expect  you 
to  go  to  various  places,  but  as  long  as  you  can  ride 
every  night  at  the  Hippodrome,  you  can  certainly 
carry  messages." 

He  turned  his  back  on  her  and  took  up  some  pa- 
pers from  the  table,  and  Arithelli  went  out,  beaten 
and  raging. 

Emile  found  her  lying  on  the  bed,  her  hands 


56  THE  HIPPODROME 

clenched  by  her  side,  her  proud  mouth  set  in  bitter 
lines.  As  he  came  in  she  turned  away  from  him,  to 
face  the  wall. 

"  Tiens! "  he  observed,  "  you  are  a  lazy  little 
trollop."  Emile  was  proud  of  his  English  slang. 

Finding  there  was  no  answer  he  changed  his 
tone.  "  Hysterics,  eh  ?  They  won't  do  here. 
Turn  over,  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

The  girl  moved  mechanically,  and  Emile  sur- 
veyed her.  There  were  slow  tears  forcing  them- 
selves under  her  heavy  eyelids. 

"  I  wish  I  were  dead !  " 

"  Probably  you  will  be  soon.  So  will  the  rest  of 
us." 

"  What  brutes  you  all  are !  " 

"  Because  we  don't  care  whether  we  die  to-day 
or  to-morrow?  Souvent  femme  varie!  Just  now 
you  seemed  so  anxious, —  besides,  if  one  belongs  to 
the  Cause  one  knows  what  to  expect."  Emile 
strolled  towards  the  uncomfortable  piece  of  furni- 
ture by  the  window,  that  purported  to  be  an  arm- 
chair, and  sat  down. 

"  I  loathe  the  Cause !  I  didn't  belong  to  it  from 
choice.  Why  did  you  make  me  join  ?  " 

"  Because  I  thought  you  would  be  useful.  You 
are  useful  and  probably  will  be  more  so." 


THE  HIPPODROME  57 

"Suppose  I  refuse  to  do  anything  more?" 

"  They  will  not  give  you  the  choice  of  refusing 
twice." 

"  Emile,  I  believe  you  are  trying  to  frighten  me. 
Tell  me  what  they  would  do." 

"  As  I  introduced  you  to  the  Brotherhood,  I 
should  naturally  be  the  one  chosen  to  execute  judg- 
ment on  you.  Enfin,  my  dear  Arithelli,  I  should 
be  called  upon  to  shoot  you.  We  don't  forgive 
traitors.  If  we  let  everyone  draw  back  from  their 
work  simply  because  they  happened  to  be  afraid, 
what  would  become  of  the  Cause  ?  Also  let  me  re- 
mind you  how  you  came  to  me  boasting  of  your 
love  of  freedom.  *  I'm  a  red-hot  Socialist.'  That's 
what  you  said,  didn't  you  ?  Perhaps  you  have  for- 
gotten it.  "  Well,  I  haven't.  Socialism  doesn't 
consist  of  standing  up  in  a  room  to  sing." 

Arithelli  made  no  answer.  She  lay  like  a  dead 
thing,  and  after  a  pause  the  slow  cynical  voice  went 
on. 

"  There  was  another  woman  in  our  affair  about 
two  years  ago.  Her  name  was  Felise  Rivaz.  She 
got  engaged  to  one  of  the  men,  and  then  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  her  that  comfortable  matrimony  and 
Anarchy  didn't  seem  likely  to  be  enjoyed  at  one 
and  the  same  time.  So  she  persuaded  the  man  to 


58  THE  HIPPODROME 

turn  traitor  and  run  away  to  England  with  her, 
where  they  proposed  to  get  married. 

"  Their  plans  came  out, —  naturally, —  those 
things  generally  do.  We  all  spy  upon  each  other. 
They  both  felt  so  secure  that  they  came  together 
to  a  last  meeting  —  I  can  show  you  the  house  if 
you  like.  It's  down  in  the  Parelelo,  the  revolution- 
ary quarter. 

"  They  strangled  the  woman,  and  cut  off  her 
arm  above  the  elbow  —  I  remember  she  had  a  thick 
gold  bracelet  round  it  with  a  date  (a  gage  d' amour 
from  her  lover  I  suppose) — and  they  made  him 
drink  the  blood.  He  went  mad  afterwards.  The 
best  thing  he  could  do  under  the  circumstances." 
Emile  shrugged. 

"  There  are  plenty  more  similar  histoires.  But 
perhaps  I  have  told  you  enough  to  convince  you 
of  the  futility  of  attempting  to  draw  back  from 
what  you  have  undertaken." 

Still  there  was  neither  movement  nor  answer. 
Emile  got  up,  and  came  to  the  bed. 

"Allans!  It's  time  you  were  dressing.  You'll 
be  late  again,  and  one  of  these  days  you'll  find  your- 
self dismissed.  You  must  just  go  on  and  put  up 
with  it  all.  Life  mostly  consists  of  putting  up 
with  things." 


THE  HIPPODROME  59 

But  even  this  consoling  philosophy  failed  to  have 
a  rousing  effect. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Arithelli  had  fainted. 

When  she  came  to  her  senses  that  evening  Emile 
sent  the  landlady  with  a  message  to  the  Hip- 
podrome, telling  the  Manager  to  substitute  another 
turn,  and  then  made  Arithelli  get  into  bed.  Her 
dress  and  boots  came  off  and  reposed  upon  the 
floor.  The  rest  of  her  clothes  were  left  on. 

These  details  did  not  worry  Emile.  Then  he 
found  a  book  and  sat  reading  till  she  had  drifted 
into  a  heavy  sleep,  the  sleep  of  exhaustion. 

In  his  own  way  he  was  sorry  for  her,  and  his 
feelings  were  by  no  means  as  brutal  as  his  words. 
At  the  same  time  he  did  not  believe  in  a  display  of 
sympathy.  According  to  his  ideas  it  was  demoral- 
ising, and  cured  no  one  of  complaints,  imaginary 
or  otherwise. 

Also  it  was  likely  to  make  people  hysterical. 
Therefore  when  Arithelli  woke  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  sat  up  panting,  with  a  hand  at  her 
left  side,  he  elevated  both  shoulders  and  eyebrows. 

"  Qu'est  ce-qu  vons  avez  done?  You're  all  right 
now." 

He  knew  perfectly  well  that  there  was  no  pre- 


60  THE  HIPPODROME 

tence  of  illness.  The  strained  eyes,  the  blue  shad- 
ows round  the  mouth  told  their  own  tale. 

"  Oh,  Emile,  my  heart  feels  so  queer !  I'm  sure 
it  must  be  all  wrong." 

"  Ma  -foil  Ces  femmes  la!  II  y  a  ton  jours  quel- 
que  chose!  First  a  faint,  then  a  heart!  How 
often  am  I  to  tell  you,  Arithelli,  that  that  part  of 
your  —  your  —  how  do  you  say  it  ?  —  anatomy  —  is 
quite  without  use  here?  Have  you  any  brandy  in 
the  room  ?  " 

"  There's  Eau  de  Cologne  on  the  washstand." 

He  mixed  water  with  the  spirit  and  gave  her  a 
liberal  dose  that  soon  helped  her  to  look  less  ghastly. 

She  lay  back  feeling  almost  comfortable,  wishing 
Emile  would  see  fit  to  depart,  but  Count  Poleski  re- 
turned again  to  the  subject  of  her  misbehaviour. 

Like  most  men  he  was  not  at  his  best  in  the  early 
morning,  and  the  night's  vigil  had  not  improved 
his  temper. 

He  sat  scowling  after  his  manner,  black  eyebrows 
meeting  over  grey  eyes,  hard  as  flint.  "If  you  are 
going  in  for  this  kind  of  performance,  what  will 
be  the  use  of  you?"  he  enquired  sarcastically. 

Perhaps  after  all  Sobrenski  had  been  right  in 
employing  no  women. 

"  Even  the  best  machine  will  get  out  of  order 
sometimes,"  the  girl  replied  wearily. 


THE  HIPPODROME  61 

"And  when  that  happens  one  sets  to  work  to 
find  another  machine  to  take  its  place." 

"  I  didn't  know  about  the  horrors ;  you  ought  to 
have  told  me.  It  isn't  fair." 

There  was  neither  passion  nor  resentment  in  the 
low  voice.  "  What  shall  I  do?  "  she  went  on,  after 
waiting  for  Emile  to  speak. 

"  Put  up  with  it,  or  better  still  go  in  for  the  Cause 
seriously." 

"  Don't  you  call  this  serious  ?  Blood  and  brutal- 
ities and  slave-driving?  You  talked  about  I' en- 
tresol de  I'enfer,  but  I'm  beginning  to  think  I've 
stepped  over  the  threshold." 

"  Ce  n'est  que  le  premier  pas  qui  coute! " 

Arithelli  bit  her  lips.  "  I  don't  feel  in  the  mood 
for  arguing  now.  I  wish  you  would  leave  me 
alone." 

"  On  condition  that  you  won't  go  in  for  any  more 
hysterics,  I'll  go  and  settle  with  the  Manager  that 
you  don't  have  to  appear  to-night.  It's  lucky  there 
happens  to  be  a  new  turn  with  those  trapeze  people. 
The  audience  won't  miss  you.  Has  Sobrenski 
given  you  anything  to  do  to-day?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  can't  remember.  Oh,  yes,  I 
was  to  go  to  the  Baroni's  at  two  o'clock." 

"  I'll  see  to  that.     A  cipher  message  ?  " 

"  Yes.     It's    fastened    under    my    hair."     She 


62  THE  HIPPODROME 

dragged  herself  into  a  sitting  position  and  extracted 
the  little  wad  of  paper  with  shaking  hands.  Emile 
took  it. 

"  Good !  I  shall  be  back  at  five  o'clock.  You 
can  get  up  later  and  come  round  to  my  rooms.  Do 
you  understand?  " 

"Yes!" 

When  he  had  gone  she  cowered  down  into  the 
big  bed  shivering.  Every  bone  in  her  body  ached 
as  if  she  had  been  beaten.  She  had  the  sensation 
of  one  who  has  been  awakened  from  a  bad  dream. 
Was  it  all  real  or  not? 

Last  night  and  its  doings  seemed  centuries  ago. 
She  still  heard  Emile's  voice  as  if  from  a  distance, 
telling  the  story  of  the  lovely  siren  woman  who  had 
been  strangled,  and  then  the  room  rocked,  and  the 
walls  closed  in  upon  her. 

His  words  worked  in  her  brain :  "  Go  in  for  the 
Cause  seriously.  Remember  it's  liberty  we  are  fight- 
ing for.  A  life  more  or  less  —  what's  that? 
Yours  or  mine?  What  does  it  matter?  Do  you 
wonder  we  don't  make  love  to  women?  It's  a 
goddess  and  not  a  woman  before  whom  we  burn  in- 
cense. Blood  and  tears,  money  and  life!  Is  there 
any  sacrifice  too  great  for  her  altar?  " 

And  she  had  been  both  frightened  and  fasci- 
nated. 


THE  HIPPODROME  63 

This  was  what  Anarchism  made  of  men  like  the 
cynical  Emile.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her  before 
that  even  Sobrenski,  whom  she  regarded  solely  as  a 
brutal  task-master,  was  himself  a  living  sacrifice. 

She  drowsed  and  brooded  through  the  day,  and 
having  arrived  at  Emile's  room  and  rinding  it 
empty,  she  "  prowled,"  as  she  herself  would  have  ex- 
pressed it,  among  his  few  belongings,  for  she  pos- 
sessed a  very  feminine  curiosity.  Under  a  pile  of 
loose  music  she  found  the  portrait  of  a  little  blond 
woman,  beautiful  of  curve  and  outline,  in  a  lace 
robe  that  could  only  have  been  made  in  Paris  or 
Vienna. 

The  picture  was  signed  Marie  Roumanoff,  and  on 
the  back  was  written  "  Tout  passe,  tout  casse,  tout 
lasse! "  There  were  songs  too  scrawled  with  love- 
messages  in  Emile's  handwriting. 

She  pored  over  them  with  a  vivid  interest  quite 
unmingled  with  any  thought  of  jealousy.  Emile 
always  said  that  no  revolutionist  ever  wasted  time 
or  thought  on  women. 

After  all,  if  she  were  shot  to-morrow  who  would 
care  ?  She  had  written  to  her  people  and  sent  them 
photographs  and  newspapers  with  the  accounts  of 
her  triumph. 

Success  was  a  sure  road  to  approbation.  If  she 
had  failed  she  would  not  have  written. 


64  THE  HIPPODROME 

The  Hippodrome  engagement  could  not  last  for- 
ever. A  little  carelessness,  a  loss  of  nerve,  and 
her  career  would  be  at  an  end. 

Sometimes  when  she  had  been  singing  "  Le 
Reve,"  she  had  really  meant  it  all. 

"  S'il  faut,  ah,  prends  ma  vie!  " 

Only  a  few  days  ago  Emile  had  stormed  at  her 
in  his  rasping  French,  because  she  had,  with  the 
vehemence  of  youth,  denounced  the  Anarchist 
leader  as  a  relentless  brute. 

"  You  think  yourself  over- worked  and  ill-used  — 
you ! "  he  said  as  he  strode  up  and  down  the  room 
twisting  his  fiercely  pointed  moustache.  "  Look  at 
Sobrenski.  He  works  us  all,  but  does  he  ever  spare 
himself?  Look  at  Vardri  ?  Rich,  well-born,  starv- 
ing at  the  Hippodrome  on  a  few  pesetas  a  week. 
I  thought  you  had  better  stuff  in  you.  Are  you 
going  to  turn  out  English  milk-and-water  ?  You're 
not  English,  you  say?  No,  I  suppose  you're  not, 
or  you  wouldn't  talk  about  "  dirty  Gentiles."  If 
you  think  Anarchy  is  all  "  Le  Reve  "  you'll  soon  find 
yourself  mistaken.  If  some  of  us  dream  dreams 
we  have  also  to  face  actions  and  realities." 

Perhaps  the  episode  of  Marie  Roumanoff  be- 
longed to  the  days  before  he  joined  the  Brother- 
hood and  became  an  exile  from  his  country. 

She  knew  that  once  upon  a  time  he  had  owned 


THE  HIPPODROME  65 

land  and  estates  in  Russia,  and  Emile  the  Anarchist 
of  Barcelona  had  been  known  as  Count  Poleski. 

She  kept  her  discoveries  to  herself,  and  when 
Emile  returned  he  found  her  crooning  over  the 
piano.  She  appeared  to  have  quite  recovered  her 
boyish  good  spirits,  and  demanded  a  singing  les- 
son, for  under  his  tuition  her  passion  for  music 
had  developed  and  increased. 

"  It's  so  nice  to  have  a  change  from  the  heat 
and  dust  and  those  horrible  electric  lights,"  she 
said.  "  Let's  enjoy  ourselves  and  try  over  all  your 
music.  What  a  lot  you  have,  and  it  all  seems  to 
have  been  bought  in  different  places.  Rome,  Paris, 
Vienna,  Dieppe,  London !  Fancy  your  having  been 
in  London ! " 

Emile's  collection  of  songs  covered  a  wide  field 
and  ranged  from  the  gypsy  ballad  of  "  The  Lost 
Horse,"  to  "  The  Bridge,"  in  the  performance  of 
which  he  revelled. 

Arithelli  sat  in  a  corner  and  rocked  with  inward 
laughter  over  his  atrocious  English,  and  evident 
enjoyment  of  the  morbid  sentiments.  For  in  spite 
of  her  face  Arithelli  had  a  fine  sense  of  the  ridicu- 
lous. 

"  You  don't  say  the  words  properly,"  she  said. 
"You  make  such  mouth fuls  out  of  them!" 

"And  what  of  you?"  Emile  retorted  in  great 


66  THE  HIPPODROME 

wrath.     "  You  with  your  French  all  soft,  soft  like 
oil!" 

"  Yes,  that's  the  Irish  half  of  me." 
"And  your  Italian  so  rauque  so  hard  — !" 
"  That's  the  Jewish  half  of  me.     Oh,  doirt  let's 
quarrel!     I  do  want  to  learn  to  sing  properly." 

"  Then  don't  fold  your  arms,"  her  instructor  said 
sharply.  "  I  suppose  you  think  it  looks  dramatic, 
but  how  can  you  learn  to  sing  what  you  call  '  prop- 
erly,' with  your  chest  all  crushed  up  like  that?  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  When  I  look  back  on  the  days  long  fled, 
The  memory  grows  still  dreamier. 
Oh !  what  fantastic  lives  they  led, 
Far  away  in  Bohemia. 

"  There  were  laws  that  were  only  made  to  break, 
In  a  world  that  never  seems  half  awake 
Till  the  lamps  were  lit  —  there  were  souls  at  stake. 
Far  away  in  Bohemia." 

DOLF  WYLLARDE. 

BARCELONA  in  August  was  like  the  Hell  to  which 
Emile  likened  it. 

The  rich  escaped  from  the  heat  to  their  villas 
up  in  the  mountains,  those  whom  business,  or  lack 
of  money,  kept  in  the  city,  existed  in  a  parched 
and  sweltering  condition.  Arithelli  still  kept  her 
place  among  the  performers  at  the  Hippodrome, 
though  after  the  fashion  of  circus  artists  her  name 
had  been  changed. 

She  was  now  "  Madame  Mignonne  "  from  Paris, 
and  wore  a  golden  wig,  and  came  on  the  stage  riding 
a  lion  in  the  character  of  a  heathen  goddess  in  the 
spectacular  display  which  always  ended  the  per- 
formance, 

67 


68  THE  HIPPODROME 

She  pined  for  the  haute  ecole  and  trick  riding 
in  which  she  so  excelled,  and  felt  unholy  pangs 
when  she  saw  her  beloved  white  horses  being  driven 
in  a  chariot  by  a  fat,  vulgar  English  woman,  ar- 
rayed in  scanty  pink  tunic  and  tights. 

She  was  not  afraid  of  the  lion,  who  was  old  and 
toothless  enough  to  be  absolutely  safe,  but  her  new 
r die  was  not  a  great  success. 

The  golden  hair  did  not  suit  her  any  better  than 
did  the  classical  draperies,  and  she  grew  daily  thin- 
ner. As  a  matter  of  fact  she  was  practically  going 
through  the  process  of  slow  starvation. 

She  had  never,  even  in  her  healthily  hungry  days, 
been  able  to  eat  the  abominable  Spanish  dishes  — 
meat  floating  in  oil,  and  other  things  which  she 
classed  together  under  the  heading  of  cochonneries. 

She  generally  lived  on  fruit,  a  little  black  bread, 
coffee,  and  absinthe. 

Emile  would  try  and  bully  her  into  eating  more, 
and  occasionally  essayed  his  talents  as  a  chef,  and 
cooked  weird  looking  things  in  his  rooms  over  a 
vilely  smelling  English  oil  stove,  but  the  Jewess 
in  Arithelli  found  him  wanting  in  the  "  divers 
washings  "  she  required  of  the  saucepans,  and  they 
generally  ended  these  Bohemian  repasts  with  a  quar- 
rel. 

She  went  about  her  work  in  a  half -stupefied  state, 


THE  HIPPODROME  69 

as  one  who  is  perpetually  in  a  trance.  She  was 
past  fear  now.  Nothing  mattered.  Midnight  rides 
on  a  mule  up  in  the  mountains,  meetings  in  the  low 
quarter  of  the  town,  the  danger  of  being  arrested 
while  carrying  a  despatch. 

"'C'est  ainsi  que  la  vie!"  Emile's  motto  had  be- 
come also  her  own. 

She  was  once  more  a  perfect  machine.  Even 
the  only  thing  that  Sobrenski  could  find  to  say 
against  her  was  that  her  appearance  was  too  con- 
spicuous for  a  conspirator  and  that  her  hands  and 
feet  would  betray  her  through  any  disguise. 

Emile,  though  still  outwardly  as  unsympathetic 
as  ever,  was  not  blind  to  the  change  in  her  looks  and 
manner. 

Putting  the  Cause  out  of  the  question,  he  did  not 
wish  "  Fatalite  "  to  get  ill.  Her  company  amused 
and  distracted  him. 

He  liked  to  hear  her  views  on  life,  and  to  colour 
them  with  his  own  cynicism,  and  he  enjoyed  teach- 
ing her  to  sing  and  hearing  her  argue. 

For  all  her  quiet  she  was  curiously  magnetic  and 
had  a  way  of  making  her  absence  felt.  She  was 
never  noisy  or  exacting  and  had  none  of  the  pride 
or  vices  of  her  sex,  and  though  she  was  often  de- 
pressed she  was  never  bored,  and  in  consequence 
bored  no  one. 


70  THE  HIPPODROME 

They  had  many  traits  in  common,  including  fa- 
talism and  morbidity,  for  the  Slav  temperament  is 
in  a  hundred  ways  akin  to  that  of  the  Celt. 

In  spite  of  his  jeering  remarks  Emile  thoroughly 
appreciated  the  girl's  pluck,  and  knew  that  if  she 
failed  it  would  be  purely  from  physical  reasons. 

"  Iron  in  a  velvet  sheath,"  he  had  described  her, 
and  iron  did  not  bend  —  it  broke. 

After  some  consideration  he  approached  the  very 
unapproachable  Manager.  "  It's  time  you  gave 
your  leading  equestrienne  a  holiday,"  he  observed. 
"  She's  getting  ill.  If  you  don't  let  her  have  a 
rest  soon  she'll  be  falling  off  in  public,  or  having 
some  fiasco.  She  was  half  dead  the  other  night 
after  the  performance." 

The  Manager  made  profane  remarks  in  the 
dialect  of  Silesia,  of  which  place  he  was  a  native. 
He  was  fresh  from  quarrelling  for  the  hun- 
dredth time  with  Estelle,  and  was  in  the  last  frame 
of  mind  to  desire  rest  or  peace  for  any  inhabitant  of 
the  globe. 

By  himself  and  everyone  else  at  the  Hippodrome, 
Arithelli  was  considered  the  property  of  the  An- 
archist, and  Emile  had  taken  very  good  care  to  dis- 
abuse no  one  of  the  idea,  but  had  rather  been  at 
some  pains  to  create  such  an  impression. 

For  her  it  was  the  best  protection,  and  kept  her 


THE  HIPPODROME  71 

free  from  the  insults  and  attentions  of  other 
men. 

Bouquets  and  jewellery  he  was  willing  that  she 
should  receive;  they  did  no  harm  and  the  latter 
could  always  be  sold. 

In  cold  and  dispassionate  argument  he  explained 
to  the  irate  Manager  the  folly  of  ruining  good  ma- 
terial by  injudicious  use. 

"  You  pay  her  as  little  as  you  can  considering  she 
is  a  draw.  She  does  the  work  of  three  people,  in- 
cluding keeping  the  books  when  you  are  not  in  a 
condition  to  wrestle  with  arithmetic.  If  you  had 
your  way  she  would  be  cleaning  out  the  stables." 

"  Bah !  "  sneered  the  other.  "  It  would  do  her 
good  —  take  the  devil  out  of  her  —  hard  work 
doesn't  hurt  that  type.  She's  all  wire  and  whipcord, 
your  She- Wolf,  Poleski.  Has  she  been  snarling  at 
you?" 

"  You'd  better  give  her  a  week  off,"  proceeded 
Emile,  unmoved.  "The  audience  will  be  getting 
tired  of  her  if  you're  not  careful;  she  has  been  on 
too  long  without  a  break.  Get  a  fresh  artiste  and 
take  it  out  of  her  salary.  I  shall  give  her  a  week's 
cruise  round  the  harbour  and  see  what  that  will  do." 

"  Well,  try  and  put  a  little  flesh  on  hef  bones," 
said  the  Manager  rudely.  "  I  never  saw  such  lean 
flanks !  She's  got  the  expression  of  a  death's  head. 


72  THE  HIPPODROME 

It's  a  good  thing  the  Spanish  don't  care  for  cheerful 
grins  or  she  wouldn't  be  here  two  days." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  on  the  following 
Sunday  Arithelli  found  herself  sitting  on  the  deck 
of  a  yacht  anchored  far  out  in  the  harbour,  with  the 
shores  of  Barcelona  only  a  faint  outline  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

They  had  come  aboard  the  previous  day. 

Emile  had  made  her  no  explanations  beyond  say- 
ing that  he  was  going  to  take  her  for  a  sea  trip,  and 
after  her  custom  she  had  asked  no  questions. 

The  yacht,  which  was  an  uncanny  looking  craft, 
painted  black  and  called  "  The  Witch,"  she  knew  by 
reputation,  and  had  often  seen  it  slipping  into  the 
harbour  after  dusk.  It  was  the  property  of  two 
Russian  aristocrats,  friends  of  Emile's,  who  helped 
the  Cause  by  conveying  bombs  and  infernal  ma- 
chines, and  taking  off  such  members  of  the  band 
as  had  suddenly  found  Spain  an  undesirable  resi- 
dence. 

Arithelli  was  not  in  the  least  interested  in  either 
of  the  men,  the  dark,  handsome,  saturnine  Vladimir, 
or  the  fair-haired,  pretty,  effeminate  youth  to  whom 
he  was  comrade  and  hero. 

But  she  liked  their  smartness  and  well-groomed 
air,  and  their  spotless  clothes,  after  Emile  and  his 
dirty  nails  and  slovenly  habits,  and  she  appreciated 


THE  HIPPODROME  73 

to  the  full  the  surrounding  refinement  and  comfort, 
and  enjoyed  the  daintily  served  meals,  the  shining 
glass  and  silver  and  the  deft,  silent  waiting  of  the 
sailors. 

She  had  been  given  a  luxurious  cabin  which 
seemed  a  paradise  after  her  dirty,  carpetless  bed- 
room, and  in  it  she  could  laze  and  lounge  in  peace 
without  the  eternal  practising  and  rehearsals  and 
running  errands  that  her  soul  loathed. 

The  hot  sun  glared  down  upon  her,  as  she  sat 
watching  the  racing  waves. 

She  was  a  fantastic,  slim,  bizarre  figure  with  her 
coppery  hair,  over  which  a  lace  scarf  was  tied,  and 
high-heeled  slippers  on  her  beautiful  slender  feet. 

In  her  ears  dangled  huge  turquoises,  showing 
vividly  against  the  white  skin  that  was  coated 
thickly  with  scented  powder. 

The  manager  had  told  her  that  she  must  not  get 
tanned  or  red  or  it  would  spoil  her  type,  and  she 
now  "  made-up  "  habitually  in  the  daytime. 

Her  whole  array  was  tawdry  and  theatrical,  and 
utterly  out  of  keeping  with  her  surroundings. 

The  two  owners  of  the  yacht,  who  wore  immacu- 
late white  linen  clothes  and  canvas  shoes,  expressed 
to  each  other  their  disapproval  of  her  whole  get-up, 
and  particularly  of  her  clicking  heels.  In  common 
with  most  men,  they  abominated  an  outre  style  of 


74  THE  HIPPODROME 

dressing  and  too  much  jewellery,  and  above  all  such 
finery  at  sea. 

The  girl  must  be  mad!  Didn't  she  know  that  a 
schooner  was  not  a  circus  ring?  If  she  were  such 
a  fool  Poleski  should  have  taught  her  better  before 
bringing  her  on  board. 

They  agreed  that  he  had  sense  enough  in  other 
things,  and  had  certainly  trained  her  not  to  be  a 
nuisance. 

After  dejeuner  Emile  had  hunted  up  the  least 
doubtful  of  the  French  novels  they  possessed  and 
sent  her  up  on  deck  to  get  the  benefit  of  the  sea  air 
of  which  she  was  supposed  to  stand  in  need. 

"  Va  t'en,  Arithelli,"  he  said.  "  You  don't  want 
to  be  suffocating  yourself  down  in  a  stuffy  cabin. 
You're  here  to  get  lots  of  ozone  and  make  yourself 
look  a  little  less  like  a  corpse.  Besides,  we  want  to 
talk." 

She  felt  very  much  depressed  and  neglected  as 
she  sat  dangling  "  Les  confessions  d'une  femme 
mariee"  which  were  virtuous  to  dulness  and  inter- 
ested her  not  at  all,  in  a  listless  hand,  long  and  deli- 
cate like  her  feet,  and  decorated  with  too  many 
turquoise  rings.  Below,  in  the  cabin,  she  could 
hear  the  noise  of  the  men  as  they  argued  and 
shouted  at  each  other  in  a  polyglot  of  three  different 
languages. 


THE  HIPPODROME  75 

Arithelli  felt  more  than  a  little  resentful.  Why 
had  they  shut  her  out  and  prevented  her  from  hear- 
ing their  discussions? 

The  men  at  the  other  meetings  had  always  wanted 
her  in  the  room. 

She  had  been  entrusted  with  all  their  secrets  and 
there  was  no  question  of  betrayal.  She  knew  too 
much  about  the  consequences  now  to  try  that. 

When  Emile  came  up  from  below  she  asked  him 
why  he  had  insulted  her  by  turning  her  out. 

Did  he  not  trust  her,  or  did  he  think  she  had  not 
enough  intelligence. 

For  answer  he  laughed  cynically,  "  I'll  make  use 
of  you  and  your  intelligence  fast  enough  —  when  I 
want  them.  You  were  cavilling  at  being  over- 
worked the  other  day." 

Of  Vladimir  and  Paul  she  saw  nothing  in  the 
daytime,  for  they  both  ignored  her,  but  in  the  even- 
ings they  all  sat  together  up  on  deck,  and  Paul  sang 
and  played  the  guitar  while  Arithelli  would  listen 
entranced  and  faint  with  pleasure. 

A  love  of  melody  was  the  birthright  of  her  race, 
and  the  boy  had  a  genius  for  music.  He  seemed  to 
have  but  two  ideas  in  life  —  that,  and  a  devotion 
which  almost  amounted  to  idolatry  for  the  older 
man. 

They  would  walk  up  and  down  for  hours,  Vladi- 


76  THE  HIPPODROME 

mir  with  his  hand  on  Paul's  shoulder  talking,  ges- 
ticulating and  commanding,  while  the  other,  his  eyes 
on  the  ground,  listened  and  assented. 

Sometimes  Vladimir  would  speak  to  him  in  Rus- 
sian with  an  accent  that  was  in  itself  a  caress,  and 
Arithelli,  who  watched  them  curiously,  noticed  and 
wondered  to  see  the  boy  flush  and  colour  like  a 
woman. 

She  always  looked  forward  with  the  keenest 
pleasure  to  those  evenings. 

The  days  bored  her,  inasmuch  as  she  was  capable 
of  being  bored,  and  she  hated  the  glare  and  glitter 
of  the  sun  and  sky. 

It  was  too  much  like  the  blue-white  lights  of  the 
Hippodrome.  With  night  came  the  glamour  of 
Fairyland,  that  magic  country  in  which  Ireland  still 
believes,  and  which  is  ever  there  for  those  who  seek 
it,  "  East  o'  the  Sun,  and  West  o'  the  Moon." 

The  yacht  drifting  idly  at  anchor  in  smooth  water, 
the  stars  in  their  bed  of  velvet  black,  the  magic  of 
air  and  space. 

The  incense-like  scent  of  Turkish  cigarettes  and 
black  coffee,  the  little  group  of  men  lounging  in 
their  deck  chairs,  the  resonant,  full  notes  of  the 
guitar,  and  Paul's  voice  rising  out  of  the  shadows. 

If  he  had  sung  standing  on  the  platform  of  a 
brightly  lit  concert  hall  half  the  charm  would  have 


THE  HIPPODROME  77 

vanished  in  that  distraction  which  the  personality 
of  a  singer  creates. 

In  the  illusion  of  his  surroundings  the  man  him- 
self did  not  exist. 

There  was  only  the  voice  —  the  singer. 

Hungarian  folk-songs  that  fired  her  blood  and 
made  her  restless  with  strange  longings;  "La  vie 
est  vaine"  eternally  sweet  and  haunting;  then  some 
wickedly  witty  song  of  the  cafes,  and  melodies  of 
Gounod  full  of  infinite  charm.  Last  of  all  came 
always  "  Le  Reve,"  in  which  Emile  and  Vladimir 
joined  as  if  it  were  some  National  Anthem,  and 
which  left  her  quivering  with  excitement. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  There  would  no  man  do  for  your  sake,  I  think, 

What  I  would  have  done  for  the  least  word  said; 
I  had  wrung  life  dry  for  your  lips  to  drink  — 
Broken  it  up  for  your  daily  bread." 

SWINBURNE. 

WHEN  the  week  of  dreams  and  rest  was  over  she 
went  back  to  the  Hippodrome  with  somewhat  of 
relief  in  her  feelings. 

At  least  the  work  prevented  her  from  thinking. 

Though  she  was  physically  less  languid,  the  sea 
air  had  neither  succeeded  in  putting  any  more  flesh 
on  what  the  Manager  called  her  "  lean  flanks,"  nor 
had  it  made  her  look  much  more  cheerful.  He  had 
the  sense  to  let  her  take  her  place  as  equestrienne 
once  more,  and  had  announced  her  reappearance  in 
flaming  posters. 

The  stablemen  and  helpers  were  all  delighted  to 
see  her  again,  and  in  token  of  their  satisfaction  pre- 
sented her  with  a  hideous  and  unwieldy  bouquet, 
in  which  all  colours  were  arranged  together  so  as 
to  give  the  effect  of  a  kaleidoscope.  They  liked  her 

78 


THE  HIPPODROME  79 

for  her  sweet  temper  and  invariable  courtesy,  and 
respected  her  for  her  knowledge  of  horses. 

Estelle  came  and  embraced  her  and  was  voluble 
over  the  failings  of  her  "  bo n  ami,"  the  sardonic 
manager. 

Arithelli  received  a  hearty  round  of  applause  as 
she  rode  into  the  ring  on  her  favourite  "  Don  Juan," 
whose  wavy  tail  and  mane  were  decorated  with  tur- 
quoise ribbons  that  matched  her  habit. 

At  least  she  was  happy  on  horseback,  and  she 
loved  the  animals  and  they  her. 

Even  the  performing  sheep  and  monkey,  and  the 
toothless  lion  came  in  for  a  share  in  her  affections. 
She  had  a  new  and  difficult  trick  to  go  through  that 
night,  but  this  particular  sort  of  danger  only  made 
her  feel  exhilarated. 

Emile's  stories  of  blood  and  horrors  had  sickened 
her,  but  the  chance  of  breaking  her  neck  over  a  high 
jump  held  no  terrors. 

She  made  her  exit,  gaily  waving  her  silver-handled 
whip,  and  Vardri,  who  was  standing  at  the  entrance 
of  the  ring,  came  forward  quickly  to  lift  her  off  her 
horse  before  the  groom  could  reach  her. 

"  You're  wanted  to-night  in  the  Calle  de  Pesca- 
dores," he  whispered,  as  she  rested  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder  to  jump  down.  "  As  soon  as  possible,  and 
go  in  carefully  —  there's  a  scare  about  spies." 


8o  THE  HIPPODROME 

He  felt  her  body  stiffen  and  the  little  smile  that 
came  so  rarely  died  in  an  instant,  leaving  her  once 
more  "  Fatalite." 

She  nodded  by  way  of  assent  and  bent  down  to 
gather  up  her  habit. 

The  ring-master  was  only  a  few  feet  away,  and 
they  could  never  be  certain  as  to  who  was  to  be 
trusted. 

Vardri  stood  looking  after  her  as  she  walked 
away  with  her  head  well  up  and  her  shoulders 
thrown  back  as  usual. 

The  two  had  become  good  friends  with  the  com- 
radeship induced  by  the  similarity  in  their  misfor- 
tunes. 

Both  were  young,  reckless  and  without  money  be- 
yond what  they  earned,  though,  whereas  Arithelli 
had  been  more  or  less  tricked  into  her  present  posi- 
tion, Vardri  had  been  infatuated  with  the  Cause 
from  the  time  he  was  old  enough  to  take  an  interest 
in  anything.  The  worship  of  the  goddess  Liberty 
had  left  with  him  room  also  for  the  adoration  of  a 
human  being,  and  in  a  boyish  chivalrous  way  he  had 
tried  to  make  things  easier  for  Arithelli. 

He  managed  to  bring  her  occasional  flowers  and 
music  out  of  his  starvation  wages,  and  was  always 
jealously  careful  of  the  way  in  which  her  horses 
were  groomed  and  turned  out.  They  had  a  curious 


THE  HIPPODROME  81 

resemblance  to  each  other,  and  when  Arithelli  was 
dressed  in  boy's  clothes  for  her  journeys  up  in  the 
mountains,  they  might  have  been  two  brothers. 
One  was  dark  and  the  other  fair,  but  both  had  the 
same  haggard,  well-modelled  faces,  the  same  pale 
skins,  and  thin,  supple  figures. 

They  were  exactly  of  a  height,  too,  and  when 
Arithelli  disguised  herself,  she  pushed  her  red  hair 
under  a  sombrero  and  black  wig. 

Even  Sobrenski's  lynx  eyes  had  been  at  fault  in 
the  semi-darkness  of  the  hut,  and  he  had  sworn  at 
her  in  mistake  for  Vardri.  As  the  dresser  took  off 
her  habit,  she  asked  the  woman  whether  Monsieur 
Poleski  had  been  behind  the  scenes  during  her  turn, 
and  was  there  a  note  or  message  ? 

It  appeared  that  there  had  been  no  sign  of  Emile, 
and  she  hesitated  for  a  moment,  hardly  knowing 
what  to  do. 

The  order  for  her  presence  in  the  Calle  de  Pesca- 
dores, which  of  course  had  been  sent  by  Sobrenski, 
had  told  her  to  come  at  once. 

On  the  other  hand,  Emile  had  always  told  her  to 
wait  for  him  in  her  room  till  he  came  to  fetch  her. 
If  she  went  through  the  streets  alone  there  would 
be  a  row,  and  if  she  were  late  at  the  rendezvous 
there  would  also  be  a  row. 

"  C'est  ainsi  que  la  vie! " 


82  THE  HIPPODROME 

She  lifted  her  thin  shoulders  after  the  manner  of 
Emile  and  decided  to  start  at  once.  She  wiped  all 
the  make-up  from  her  face  with  a  damp  towel, 
swaying  a  little  as  she  stood  before  the  glass. 

The  excitement  of  her  reception  and  the  ensuing 
episode  had  made  her  heart  beat  at  distressing  speed. 

^•HMHpPAM^^HIVWr 

'  You're  not  ill,"  she  adjured  her  pale  reflection. 
"  It's  all  imagination.  Emile  says  all  these  com- 
plaints are.  Any  way,  you're  not  going  to  give  in 
to  it." 

She  shut  both  ears  and  eyes  as  she  sped  through 
the  restless  city  that  even  at  this  hour  was  astir  with 
life. 

She  was  only  glad  that  there  was  no  moon. 
Roused  for  once  out  of  her  naturally  slow  and  indo- 
lent walk,  she  was  soon  in  the  poor  quarter  and 
climbing  the  stairs  to  the  third  floor  of  a  horrible 
little  house,  the  back  of  which  looked  out  on  the 
dark  slums  of  the  quarter  of  the  Parelelo,  the  breed- 
ing-place of  revolutions;  the  district  between  the 
Rambla  and  the  Harbour. 

The  house  was  like  the  one  that  Emile  had  de- 
scribed when  telling  her  of  the  murdered  woman, 
Felise  Rivaz. 

The  very  air  reeked  of  intrigue  and  hidden  deeds. 

She  looked  round  first  of  all  for  Emile,  but  he 


THE  HIPPODROME  83 

was  not  there,  and  only  half  the  usual  number  of 
conspirators  were  assembled. 

Vardri,  who  had  left  the  Hippodrome  the  minute 
he  had  delivered  his  message,  was  sitting  on  the  end 
of  the  table  swinging  his  feet  and  whistling  softly. 

He  had  bribed  one  of  the  "  strappers  "  to  finish 
his  work,  and  slipped  out,  only  arriving  a  few  min- 
utes before  her. 

He  had  risked  dismissal,  but  that  was  no  great 
matter. 

The  Cause  came  first,  and  he  feared  danger  for 
Arithelli,  knowing  that  if  there  was  anything  spe- 
cially risky  to  be  done  she  would  be  the  one  chosen. 

Sobrenski  was  always  harder  on  her  than  on  the 
others. 

He  watched  her  with  the  hungry,  faithful  eyes  of 
an  animal,  and  got  up  from  his  seat  with  instinctive 
courtesy.  Like  all  the  rest  he  wore  the  Anarchist 
badge,  a  red  tie,  and  the  hot,  vivid  colour  showed 
up  the  lines  of  ill-health  and  suffering  about  his  eyes 
and  mouth. 

In  spite  of  his  disreputable  clothes  and  wild  hair, 
there  still  remained  in  him  the  indefinable  signs  of 
breeding,  in  the  thin,  shapely  hands  that  rested  on 
his  knee,  and  in  the  modulations  of  his  boyish  and 
eager  voice. 


84  THE  HIPPODROME 

None  of  the  others  took  the  least  notice  of  the 
girl's  entrance. 

Nearly  all  of  them  were  as  well-born  as  the  young 
Austrian,  but  to  them  she  was  simply  a  comrade,  a 
fellow  worker,  not  a  woman. 

She  gave  him  a  little  friendly  gesture  and  went 
quietly  to  a  seat  against  the  wall,  where  she  sat  in 
one  of  her  characteristic  attitudes,  her  feet  crossed, 
and  showing  under  her  short  dark  blue  skirt. 

Emile  had  made  her  buy  this  one  plain  and  un- 
noticeable  garment  for  use  on  these  occasions. 

After  she  had  been  in  the  room  a  minute,  So- 
brenski  turned  from  the  man  to  whom  he  had  been 
talking  in  a  careful  under-tone,  and  bolted  the 
door. 

"  Listen,  all  of  you,"  he  said.  "  We  have  received 
information  that  this  house  will  be  watched  to-night. 
Whether  the  spy  is  one  who  was  formerly  one  of 
us,  we  do  not  know  —  yet.  It  appears  that  it  is 
Poleski  who  is  the  suspect.  They  have  some  evi- 
dence against  him  that  is  dangerous.  If  he  is  seen 
coming  in  here  to-night,  they  will  arrest  him.  The 
next  time  we  will  change  the  place,  but  for  the  pres- 
ent all  that  can  be  done  is  to  warn  him  against 
coming  here.  Fortunately  he  will  be  later  than 
usual,  because  he  does  not  leave  the  Cafe  Colomb 
till  after  midnight.  Someone  must  be  sent  there  to 


THE  HIPPODROME  85 

stop  him.  It  will  not  do  for  any  of  us  to  be  seen 
coming  out,  so  she  " —  he  indicated  Arithelli  — 
"  must  go." 

Arithelli  wasted  no  time  in  response.  She  was 
only  too  eager  to  get  out  of  the  abominable  place, 
and  was  already  half  way  to  the  door  when  So- 
brenski  stopped  her. 

"  Not  that  way !  "  he  said.  "  What  are  you  think- 
ing of?  You  will  walk  straight  into  the  arms  of 
the  spies  who  are  probably  watching  the  house  by 
this  time.  No,  you  must  go  by  the  window  at  the 
back;  the  rest  of  us  will  stay  here  all  night." 

"  This  house  gives  on  the  quay  by  a  lucky 
chance,"  remarked  one  of  the  older  men;  "we 
should  be  well  trapped  otherwise.  There  are  sev- 
eral feet  between  it  and  the  water." 

Vardri's  eyes  had  never  moved  from  the  girl's 
face.  He  knew  that  her  heart  was  affected,  and  she 
had  told  him  once  that  she  would  never  attempt  to 
go  on  the  tight-rope  or  trapeze  because  the  mere 
thought  of  a  height  always  terrified  her. 

In  answer  to  Sobrenski's  gesture,  she  moved  to- 
wards the  window,  which  another  of  the  conspira- 
tors was  cautiously  opening. 

Vardri  pushed  himself  forward  into  the  group. 
"  She  can't  go  down  there/'  he  said  hoarsely.  "  It's 
not  safe  —  look  at  the  height !  " 


86  THE  HIPPODROME 

"  She'll  go  down  well  enough  if  she  holds  onto 
the  rope." 

"  The  rope  may  break  or  fray  through  on  the  sill." 

"  She  takes  her  chance  like  the  rest  of  us." 

"  The  rest  of  us  —  we're  men! " 

"  There  are  neither  men  nor  women  in  the  Cause. 
Do  you  need  to  be  taught  that  now  ?  Stand  back !  " 

"  I'll  go  down  in  her  place." 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Which  of  us 
is  the  leader  here  ?  " 

Sobrenski  had  twisted  the  girl's  arms  behind  her 
back,  and  he  was  holding  her  by  the  wrists. 

He  expected  her  to  scream  or  struggle,  but  she 
remained  absolutely  passive. 

One  of  the  men  was  making  a  slip-knot  in  a  coil 
of  rope. 

Vardri's  blood  was  hot  as  he  looked  on.  Blind 
with  helpless  rage,  he  was  conscious  of  nothing  but 
the  little  set  face  and  defiant  head.  He  had  come 
suddenly  into  his  heritage  of  manhood  at  the  sight 
of  her  alone,  defenceless  and  roughly  handled  by 
brute  beasts  who  called  themselves  men. 

He  was  mad,  too,  with  a  man's  jealousy.  From 
the  earliest  moment  he  had  seen  Arithelli  he  had 
given  her  homage  as  a  woman.  The  gamin,  the 
"  Becky  Sharp  "  that  Emile  and  the  others  knew,  he 


THE  HIPPODROME  87 

had  never  seen,  and  he  had  always  resented  her 
numerous  irreverent  nicknames. 

He  could  do  nothing,  nothing! 

Get  himself  shot  or  strangled,  perhaps,  and  what 
use  would  that  be  to  her? 

"  Come !  "  said  Sobrenski,  turning  her  towards 
the  window. 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  entered  the  room, 
Arithelli  spoke :  "  Leave  me  alone  for  a  minute. 
No,  I  won't  move  —  parole  d'honnenr!" 

When  she  was  released,  she  put  out  her  left  hand. 
cf  Mon  ami,  what's  the  use  of  arguing?  I'm  the 
errand  boy,  vois-tu?  My  work  is  to  carry  messages. 
If  you  make  a  scene  it's  only  the  worse  for  me. 
It's  good  of  you  to  want  to  go  instead.  I  shall  not 
forget." 

The  voice,  subtle  and  sweet  as  ever,  the  intimacy 
implied  by  the  familiar  "  thou  "  acted  like  a  charm 
to  the  boy's  wild  fury.  Before  her  courage  and 
dignity  it  seemed  out  of  place  to  make  any  further 
protest. 

He  crushed  the  long  and  lovely  hand  against  his 
lips  with  mingled  passion  and  reverence. 

There  was  a  red  streak  across  the  wrist. 

"  A  fine  melodrama ! "  sneered  Sobrenski. 
"  Keep  all  that  for  the  stage,  it  isn't  needed  here. 


88  THE  HIPPODROME 

Allans!  We  can't  waste  any  more  time,  there  has 
been  too  much  wasted  already." 

Vardri  walked  to  the  furthest  end  of  the  room, 
turning  his  back  upon  the  group  at  the  window,  and 
thrust  his  fingers  into  his  ears  to  deaden  the  sound 
of  the  scream  for  which  he  waited  in  tortured  an- 
ticipation. 

Excitable  and  neurotic,  like  all  consumptives,  his 
imagination  made  of  those  waiting  moments  a  veri- 
table hell. 

She  would  never  get  down  in  safety  —  an  old 
and  hastily  knotted  rope,  a  disregard  of  all  ordinary 
precautions,  and  her  body  in  the  hands  of  men  who 
handled  human  lives  more  carelessly  than  most  peo- 
ple would  handle  stones.  He  bit  his  lip  till  the 
blood  ran  down  to  his  chin. 

Here  he  stood  doing  nothing,  he  who  would  have 
been  tortured  to  save  her ! 

The  window  was  shut  and  one  of  the  men  said : 
"  She's  down  all  right  after  all.  I  thought  by  the 
look  of  her  she  would  have  fainted.  She  has  some 
pluck,  Mademoiselle  Fatalite !  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Sobrenski.  "  Here's  the  cow- 
ard and  traitor." 

Vardri  wheeled  round,  looking  straight  into  the 
cold  eyes  of  his  leader.  He  had  heard  the  last 


THE  HIPPODROME  89 

words.  She  was  safe,  that  was  all  that  mattered, 
and  for  himself  he  was  reckless. 

"  Traitor,  am  I?  Yes,  if  the  Cause  is  to  include 
the  ill-treatment  of  women !  " 

"  Women  ?  Again  women  ?  Are  our  meetings 
to  be  used  as  love  trysts.  There  was  a  certain  epi- 
sode two  years  ago  —  Gaston  de  Barres  and  Felise 
Rivaz  —  you  remember  it?  Ah,  I  thought  so! 
Then  let  it  be  a  warning —  in  the  future  you  will  be 
suspected  and  watched.  There  is  no  need  for  me 
to  dilate  upon  the  punishment  for  treachery,  all  that 
you  knew  when  you  joined  us.  You  may  consider 
yourself  lucky  to  have  escaped  so  easily  to-night. 
Through  the  few  minutes'  delay  you  have  caused, 
Poleski  may  have  been  arrested." 

Vardri  shrugged  and  sat  down.  Like  Arithelli, 
he  recognized  the  futility  of  mere  words  upon  cer- 
tain occasions. 

Moreover,  now  that  the  flame  of  his  indignation 
had  died  down,  he  had  begun  to  feel  wretchedly  ill 

and  spiritless  with  the  reaction  that  comes  after  any 

J 
great  excitement. 

He  sat  shivering  and  coughing  till  the  dawn, 
while  the  other  men  talked  in  low  voices  or  played 
cards.  One  or  two  slept  fitfully  in  uncomfortable 
attitudes  on  the  floor. 


90  THE  HIPPODROME 

No  one  grumbled  at  the  discomfort  or  weariness 
of  the  vigil. 

They  who  looked  forward  to  ultimate  prison  and 
perhaps  death  itself  were  not  wont  to  quarrel  with 
such  minor  inconveniences  as  the  loss  of  sleep. 

Sobrenski  had  pulled  the  solitary  candle  in  the 
room  towards  him  and  sat  writing  rapidly  and 
frowning  to  himself. 

His  fox-like  face  framed  in  its  red  hair  and 
beard  looked  more  relentless  and  crafty  than  ever 
in  the  revealing  light,  and  the  boy  shivered  anew, 
but  not  from  physical  cold. 

He  did  not  fear  the  leader  of  the  Brotherhood 
for  himself,  but  for  Arithelli  —  Arithelli,  the 
drudge,  the  tool,  the  "  errand  boy,"  as  she  had  called 
herself. 

Perhaps  in  time  even  she  would  become  a  heart- 
less machine. 

Human  life  had  seemed  so  cheap  and  of  so  little 
account  to  him  once,  but  since  he  had  loved  her  — 

She  could  never  live  among  such  people  and  in 
such  scenes,  and  still  remain  unscarred. 

Again  the  little  desperate  face  rose  before  him. 

If  they  did  not  succeed  in  killing  her  soon  by 
their  brutalities,  she  would  commit  suicide  to  escape 
from  the  horrors  that  surrounded  her. 


THE  HIPPODROME  91 

It  had  never  occurred  to  Vardri  to  be  jealous  of 
Emile. 

With  the  curious  insight  that  love  gives  he  had 
formed  a  true  idea  of  the  relationship  between  the 
oddly-assorted  pair.  He  had  never  thought  of  him- 
self as  her  lover. 

To  him  she  was  always  the  Ideal,  the  divinity 
enthroned. 

He  was  content  to  kiss  her  feet,  and  to  lay  before 
them  service  and  sacrifice. 

Yet,  though  he  might  build  a  wall  of  love  around 
her,  he  knew  it  could  give  her  no  protection  against 
the  realities  of  her  present  life. 

She  had  given  him  dreams,  and  in  them  he  could 
forget  all  other  things,  the  things  that  the  world 
calls  real. 

Everything  had  vanished  as  a  mist  —  the  dirty 
room,  the  chill  of  the  dawn,  his  own  physical  wretch- 
edness. 

He  heard  only  the  honey-sweet  voice,  saw  only 
the  outstretched  hand  of  friendship. 

"  Mon  ami,"  she  had  called  him,  he  who  had  never 
aspired  higher  than  to  be  known  as  her  servant. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"  For  all  things  born  one  gate 
Opens,  .  .  .  and  no  man  sees 
Beyond  the  gods  and  Fate." 

SWINBURNE. 

WHEN  Emile  arrived  at  the  Hippodrome,  only  a 
few  minutes  after  his  usual  time,  he  found  no  one 
but  the  dresser,  who  was  clearing  away  the  litter  of 
clothes,  jewellery,  powder-puffs  and  flowers. 

Arithelli  had  vanished. 

She  had  never  before  failed  to  wait  for  him,  and 
he  knew  she  would  not  have  started  alone  without 
some  very  good  reason.  He  questioned  the  dresser 
and  found  she  knew  nothing  beyond  that  "  La  Nina," 
as  she  called  the  girl  affectionately,  had  left  immedi- 
ately after  her  last  turn.  She  had  asked  if  the  Senor 
had  been  in  yet,  but  hearing  he  had  not,  she  had 
dressed  and  gone  at  once.  She  had  not  even  stayed 
to  put  on  a  cloak,  and  had  left  her  hair  still  in  a 
plait,  and  only  a  velo  over  it.  She  had  seemed  in 
great  haste  (but  that  was  always  so  with  the  Eng- 
lish!) and  had  looked  ill.  The  Senor  must  not  be 
alarmed,  she  added,  folding  Arithelli's  blue  habit 

92 


THE  HIPPODROME  93 

with  wrinkled,  careful  hands.  True,  Barcelona  was 
an  evil  place  for  one  so  young  as  "  La  Nina,"  but 
the  blessed  saints  — 

Emile  gave  her  a  peseta,  and  left  her  to  her  invo- 
cations. In  the  long  passage  that  led  from  the 
dressing-rooms  he  ran  into  Estelle,  who  was  just 
sufficiently  drunk  to  be  excitable  and  quarrelsome. 
She  still  had  on  her  dancer's  costume  of  short  skirts 
of  poppy-coloured  tulle,  and  scarlet  shoes  and  tights. 
She  was  further  adorned  with  long,  dangling,  coral 
ear-rings,  and  a  black  bruise  on  the  left  side  of  her 
face  under  the  eye,  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of 
her  last  encounter  with  the  Manager. 

She  saluted  Emile  with  a  vindictive  glare  from 
her  black  eyes,  and  tried  to  push  past  him.  She 
hated  him  in  a  spiteful  feminine  way  for  his  com- 
plete appropriation  of  Arithelli,  of  whom,  thanks  to 
him,  she  now  saw  very  little.  She  had  quarrelled 
with  all  the  other  women  employed  in  the  Circus, 
but  Arithelli  had  always  helped  her  to  dress,  and 
given  her  cigarettes  and  listened  to  her  woes. 

Emile  blocked  the  way,  catching  the  dancer  by 
the  wrist  as  she  attempted  to  slip  by,  leaving  his 
question  unanswered.  He  repeated  it,  and  after  a 
minute's  sullen  refusal  to  speak,  Estelle  stamped  her 
foot  savagely  upon  the  floor,  and  collapsed  into  a 
state  of  hysterical  volubility.  No,  she  had  seen 


94  THE  HIPPODROME 

nothing,  nothing!  she  protested  in  French. 
Scarcely  ever  did  she  see  her  little  friend  now,  and 
whose  fault  was  that?  Would  Monsieur  Poleski 
answer  her?  As  Monsieur  Poleski  did  nothing  of 
the  kind,  she  continued  to  rage.  All  men  were 
brutes!  Yes,  all!  She  had  no  friends  now  and  if 
she  did  console  herself  —  what  would  he  have? 

Emile  decided  that  she  was  speaking  the  truth, 
and  that  there  was  no  use  wasting  time  in  making 
other  enquiries. 

One  thing  seemed  certain  —  that  Arithelli  had 
left  the  building.  From  the  Hippodrome  he  went 
next  to  her  lodgings,  also  with  no  result.  He  could 
only  now  suppose  that  Sobrenski  had  sent  her  off 
at  a  moment's  notice  on  some  unusual  errand.  The 
possibility  of  her  having  gone  to  the  house  in  the 
Calle  de  Pescadores  did  not  occur  to  him.  Accord- 
ing to  the  last  arrangement  they  were  not  expected 
there  till  after  midnight.  It  was  only  eleven  now. 
He  would  go  to  the  Cafe  Colomb,  and  spend  the  hour 
there.  It  was  no  use  to  search  for  her  further,  and 
as  he  assured  himself  there  was  not  the  least  reason 
to  become  alarmed.  She  was  not  likely  to  lose  her 
head,  and  she  knew  her  way  about  the  place. 

The  Colomb  was  more  or  less  a  recognised  resort 
of  the  many  revolutionaries  with  whom  the  city 
abounded.  The  proprietor  was  known  to  be  in 


THE  HIPPODROME  95 

sympathy  with  their  schemes,  though  he  took  no 
active  part  in  them  himself.  He  was  considered 
trustworthy,  for  notes  and  messages  were  often  left 
in  his  charge,  and  his  private  room  was  at  the  dis- 
posal of  those  who  wished  for  a  few  minutes'  secret 
interview.  When  Emile  entered  he  was  greeted  by 
several  of  the  men  who  sat  in  groups  of  two  and 
three  at  little  tables,  busy  with  Monte  and  other  card 
games. 

The  smoke  of  many  cigarettes  obscured  their 
figures,  and  clouded  the  mirrors  with  which  the 
place  was  lined  from  floor  to  ceiling.  Emile  sat 
down  alone  and  ordered  an  absinthe. 

When  called  upon  to  join  in  the  play,  he  refused 
with  a  scowl  and  a  rasping  oath  in  his  native  tongue, 
and  as  the  evening  grew  on  towards  midnight  he 
was  left  to  himself  and  his  meditations. 

His  thoughts  were  still  with  Arithelli,  the  weird 
witch-girl,  whose  eyes  were  like  those  of  Swin- 
burne's fair  woman, 

"Coloured  like  a  water-flower, 
And  deeper  than  the  green  sea's  glass." 

He,  who  now  never  opened  a  book,  had  once  known 
that  most  un-English  of  all  poets  by  heart. 

In  her  many  phases  Arithelli  passed  before  him, 
as  he  stared  moodily  at  the  shifting  opal-coloured 


96  THE  HIPPODROME 

liquid  in  his  glass.  He  thought  of  her  as  he  had 
often  seen  her,  fighting  through  her  work  at  the 
Hippodrome,  the  little  weary  head  always  gallantly 
carried,  and  then  when  she  had  dismounted  and  was 
in  her  dressing-room,  the  rings  round  her  eyes,  her 
shaking  hands  and  utter  weariness.  He  remem- 
bered her  consideration  for  her  horses,  her  loathing 
of  the  ill-treatment  of  all  dumb  things  so  common 
here.  Once  he  had  found  her  in  the  market-place, 
remonstrating  in  her  broken  Spanish  with  the  coun- 
try women  for  the  inhuman  manner  in  which  they 
carried  away  their  purchases  of  live  fowl,  tied  neck 
to  neck,  and  slung  across  a  mule,  to  die  of  slow 
strangulation  under  the  blazing  sun.  All  the  ani- 
mals at  the  Hippodrome  had  been  better  treated 
since  she  had  been  there.  It  was  characteristic  of 
the  man  that  he  laughed  at  her  to  her  face  for  her 
campaign  against  the  national  cruelty,  and  in  secret 
thought  of  her  with  admiration. 

In  many  ways  sexless,  in  others  purely  a  woman, 
to  every  mood  she  brought  the  charm  of  individu- 
ality. 

Tiens!  He  was  falling  in  love,  he  jeered  to 
himself,  cynically.  In  love  with  that  tall,  silent 
creature,  who  was  never  in  a  hurry  and  never  in  a 
temper,  and  who  walked  as  if  she  had  been  bred  in 
Andalusia. 


THE  HIPPODROME  97 

Absurd!  He  was  only  interested.  She  had 
brains,  and  she  never  bored  him. 

Besides,  she  was  only  twenty- four,  and  one  could 
hardly  allow  a  girl  of  that  age  to  be  thrown  warm 
and  living  to  the  wolves  and  vampires  of  Barcelona. 
Perhaps  he  had  been  wrong  in  letting  her  do  some 
things  —  drink  absinthe,  for  example.  One  lost 
one's  sense  of  mental  and  moral  perspective  in  a 
place  like  this.  At  least  he  had  guarded  her  well. 
If  he  had  not  met  her  that  day  at  the  station,  she 
might  have  fallen  into  worse  hands  than  his  own. 
Things  could  not  go  on  indefinitely  as  they  had  been 
going.  What  was  to  be  the  end  of  it  all? 

Eventually  she  would  fall  in  love,  and  a  woman 
was  no  more  use  to  the  Cause  once  that  happened. 
No  vows  would  be  strong  enough  to  keep  her  from 
a  man's  arms  once  she  cared.  She  would  not  love 
lightly  or  easily,  and  where  would  she  find  love, 
here  in  Barcelona  ? 

Half  unconsciously,  he  found  himself  comparing 
Arithelli  with  the  woman  who  had  betrayed  him. 
Emile  never  lied,  even  to  himself,  and  he  knew 
now  that  Marie  Roumanoff  had  almost  become  a 
shadow. 

A  plaything  she  had  been,  a  child,  a  doll,  a  be- 
ing made  for  caresses  and  admiration.  To  a 
woman  of  her  type  camaraderie  would  have  been 


98  THE  HIPPODROME 

impossible.  He  had  not  wanted  it,  and  it  had  not 
been  in  her  nature  to  give  it. 

A  man,  who  had  been  sitting  opposite,  got  up, 
gesticulated,  put  on  his  hat  at  a  reckless  angle,  and, 
with  a  noisy  farewell  to  his  companions,  swaggered 
out. 

In  the  mirror  that  faced  him  Emile  saw  the  quick 
furtive  glance  bestowed  upon  him,  though  he  sat 
apparently  unconscious  of  it. 

Something  at  the  back  of  his  brain  suggested 
to  him  that  he  knew  the  man's  face,  that  he  had 
seen  him  before.  A  spy  probably.  It  was  noth- 
ing unusual  for  any  of  them  to  be  "  shadowed,"  and 
for  their  out-goings  and  in-comings  to  be  noted. 

The  highly  gilded  French  clock  on  the  mantel- 
piece at  the  far  end  of  the  room  announced  the 
hour  as  being  a  quarter  to  twelve.  Emile  stooped 
down  to  pick  up  his  sombrero  which  had  tumbled 
off  a  chair  on  to  the  floor,  when  he  remained  with 
outstretched  hand,  arrested  by  the  sound  of  a 
woman's  voice  which  came  through  the  partly 
opened  door  of  the  proprietor's  private  room  and 
office.  A  woman's  voice?  It  was  Arithelli's  un- 
mistakably. 

He  recovered  himself  and  the  sombrero  to- 
gether, and  twisted  round  in  his  seat  so  as  to  get 
a  view  of  the  door,  which  was  on  his  left  hand, 


99 

half  way  down  the  long  room.  It  had  a  glass 
top,  across  which  a  dark  green  curtain  was  drawn. 
Emile  knew  that  it  was  possible  to  enter  this  room 
without  passing  through  the  cafe.  There  was  an- 
other door  which  led  into  a  passage  through  the 
kitchen  and  back  part  of  the  house,  and  from 
thence  into  a  side-street,  or  rather  a  small  alley. 

He  had  often  been  that  way,  and  it  was  generally 
used  by  the  frequenters  of  the  place  when  they 
had  reason  to  guard  their  movements. 

He  listened  again. 

The  voice  was  even  more  hoarse  than  usual  and 
more  uncertain.  Though  he  could  not  hear  the 
words,  the  broken  sentences  gave  an  impression  of 
breathlessness.  When  she  stopped  speaking  he 
heard  the  voice  of  the  proprietor  raised  in  an  em- 
phatic stage-whisper.  Yes,  Monsieur  Poleski  was 
within.  Mademoiselle  was  fortunately  in  time  to 
find  him.  If  Mademoiselle  would  give  herself  the 
trouble  to  wait  but  for  one  moment  — . 

The  little  man  fancied  himself  an  adept  at  in- 
trigue, and  his  methods  were  often  a  cause  of  anx- 
iety to  those  he  befriended.  His  nods  and  gestures 
and  meaning  glances  as  he  emerged  would  have 
been  enough  to  arouse  suspicion  in  the  most  guile- 
less. 

He  stood  blinking  his  short-sighted  eyes  through 


ioo  THE  HIPPODROME 

the  haze  in  his  effort  to  attract  Emile's  attention 
without  being  detected.  The  latter  got  up  and 
sauntered  towards  him. 

"Bon  soir,  Monsieur  Lefevre"  he  said  care- 
lessly. "  We  have  a  little  account  to  settle,  you 
and  I,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

Fat  Monsieur  Lefevre  rose  gallantly  to  the  oc- 
casion. He  bowed  Emile  into  the  room,  locked  the 
door  by  which  they  had  entered,  and  with  another 
bow  and  a  muttered  apology  scuttled  through  the 
passage  into  the  back  regions.  Two  minutes  later 
he  made  his  reappearance  in  the  cafe  by  the  front 
way,  and  went  to  his  place  behind  the  counter  with 
the  satisfied  face  of  a  successful  diplomatist. 

His  little  sanctum  was  typical  in  its  arrangement 
of  the  Parisian  bourgeois. 

Numerous  picture  post-cards  of  a  famous  chan- 
teuse  of  the  Folies  Bergeres  proclaimed  Monsieur's 
taste  in  beauty.  For  the  rest,  everything  was  neat 
and  rather  bare  of  furniture.  There  were  chairs 
symmetrically  arranged  like  sentinels  along  the 
walls,  tinted  lace  curtains,  a  gilded  mirror,  and  a 
few  doubtful  coloured  pictures,  all  of  women.  An 
unshaded  electric  light  flared  in  a  corner.  Ari- 
thelli  stood  resting  one  hand  on  the  round  polished 
table  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment.  Her  dark 


THE  HIPPODROME  101 

bine  dress  was  torn  in  two  places,  and  smeared 
with  patches  of  dust.  The  velo,  or  piece  of  dra- 
pery worn  on  ordinary  occasions  instead  of  the  man- 
tilla, hung  down  her  back  in  company  with  the  long 
plait  of  hair,  which  had  come  untwisted  at  the  ends. 
Her  face  was  strained  and  haggard,  and  the  tense 
attitude  spoke  of  tortured  nerves. 

She  was  still  struggling  for  breath,  and  appeared 
almost  unable  to  speak,  but  Emile  was  not  minded 
to  allow  her  much  time  for  recovery. 

Patience  was  not  numbered  among  such  virtues 
as  he  possessed. 

"  Tiens!  "  he  began.  "  What  is  it  now,  Fatalite? 
You  look  as  if  you  had  been  having  adventures. 
Have  you  been  getting  into  mischief?  And  where 
have  you  been  ?  " 

"  In  the  Calle  de  Pescadores  out  at  Barcelonetta. 
Sobrenski  sent  me  with  a  message  to  you.  The 
place  is  being  watched.  If  they  see  you  go  in  you 
may  be  arrested.  The  others  got  to  hear  about 
the  spies,  and  went  early.  They  are  going  to  stay 
there  all  night  because  it  isn't  safe  to  leave."  Her 
tone  was  that  of  one  who  repeats  a  well-learned 
lesson. 

Emile  shrugged.  "  Spies  ?  So  that's  it !  There 
was  a  man  just  now  in  the  cafe  who  looked  like  it. 


102  THE  HIPPODROME 

Probably  he  is  waiting  to  go  outside  now  to 
'  shadow  '  me.  He  may  wait  till  — !  And  how 
did  you  get  out  ?  " 

"  They  let  me  down  from  a  window  at  the  back 
of  the  house.  I  got  on  to  the  quay  and  came  here 
by  the  long  way  and  through  the  Rambla."  There 
was  a  pause,  and  then  she  said  in  the  same  mechan- 
ical voice,  "  Sobrenski  said  I  was  to  tell  you  not 
to  come.  It  isn't  safe." 

Emile  did  not  answer.  He  could  see  that  she 
was  trembling  violently  and  on  the  verge  of  an 
hysterical  crisis.  He  rather  hoped  she  would  break 
down.  It  would  seem  more  natural.  Women  were 
privileged  to  cry  and  scream,  not  that  it  was  possible 
to  imagine  her  screaming.  He  dragged  forward  a 
chair  from  the  immaculate  row  against  the  wall. 

As  he  did  so  he  noticed  that  she  kept  her  left 
hand  behind  her  back  as  if  to  conceal  something. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  ordered.  "  What's  the  matter 
with  your  hand  ?  Are  you  hurt  ?  " 

The  girl  retreated  before  him. 

"  No !  "  she  answered  defiantly. 

But  Emile's  quick  eyes  had  seen  a  crumpled  hand- 
kerchief flecked  with  red  stains. 

"Don't  tell  lies,  Fatalite!"  he  said  sharply. 
"  Give  me  your  hand  at  once." 

Arithelli  obeyed,  holding  it  out  palm  upwards. 


THE  HIPPODROME  103 

Emile  looked,  and  ripped  out  a  fiery  exclamation. 
The  smooth  flesh  was  scarred  and  torn  across  in' sev- 
eral places,  and  was  still  bleeding.  The  mark  of 
Sobrenski's  grip  on  her  wrist  had  turned  from 
crimson  to  a  dull  discoloured  hue. 

"  It  doesn't  hurt  so  very  much,"  she  said.  „  "  Only 
I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  blood.  All  Jewish  people 
are  like  that.  I  can't  help  it.  It  makes  me  feel 
queer  all  over." 

She  turned  her  head  aside  with  a  shudder. 
Emile  muttered  another  expletive,  adding: 

"  Then  if  you  feel  like  that,  don't  look." 

He  told  her  again  to  sit  down,  tore  her  handker- 
chief into  strips,  soaked  them  in  water  from  a  ca- 
rafe, and  bandaged  up  the  wounds  in  a  rough  but 
effectual  fashion. 

She  said  nothing  during  the  process,  but  kept 
her  head  still  turned  away  so  that  he  could  not  see 
her  face. 

"J/oila!"  said  Emile.  "That  will  be  all  right 
to-morrow.  What  did  they  do  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  cut  my  fingers  on  the  window  sill  when  they 
let  me  down.  There  was  a  piece  of  iron  or  a  nail 
or  something.  I  don't  remember.  It  didn't  hurt 
at  the  time." 

"H'm!"  commented  Emile.  "But  this?"  he 
touched  her  wrist  lightly.  "  It  looks  like  — " 


104  THE  HIPPODROME 

"That?     Oh,  Sobrenski  did  that.     He—" 

"  Well?  "  said  Emile.  He  waited  but  there  came 
no  answer,  so  he  continued  the  interrogation. 
"  You  didn't  make  a  scene,  Fatalite?  " 

He  heard  her  flinch  and  draw  in  her  breath  as  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  free  hand.  Her  low 
painful  sobbing  reminded  him  of  the  inarticulate 
moaning  of  an  animal. 

Even  in  her  grief,  her  abandonment,  she  was  un- 
like all  other  women.  Emile  stood  beside  her  in 
watchful  silence,  and  neither  attempted  to  interfere 
nor  to  console  her.  He  was  wise  enough  to  know 
that  to  a  highly  strung  nature  like  hers  too  much 
self -repression  might  be  dangerous,  and  he  was  hu- 
mane enough  to  be  glad  that  she  had  the  relief  of 
tears. 

At  length  he  said  quietly,  "  I  didn't  know  you 
could  cry,  Fatalite.  I  didn't  know  you  were  hu- 
man enough  for  that." 

She  still  fought  desperately  for  composure, 
thrusting  a  fold  of  the  torn  velo  between  her  teeth. 
The  naked  light  shone  on  her  bent  head,  and  on  her 
glittering  rope  of  hair. 

A  strange  impulse  suddenly  moved  Emile  to  fin- 
ger a  loose  strand  with  a  touch  that  had  in  it  some- 
thing of  a  caress. 


THE  HIPPODROME  105 

Gamin  she  had  been,  equestrienne,  heroine,  and 
now  she  was  only  a  sorrowful  Dolores. 

At  last  words  came. 

She  stood  up  and  faced  him,  shaking  back  her 
hair. 

"  Emile !  Emile !  I  must  give  it  up.  I  can't  go 
on!" 

"  And  you  can't  turn  back,  mon  enfant." 

"  I'll  run  away." 

"  Do  you  think  they  wouldn't  find  you?  You 
know  enough  about  our  organisation  now.  No  one 
who  has  once  joined  us  is  ever  allowed  to  escape. 
You  would  be  found  sooner  or  later,  and  then  — 
you  remember  what  I  told  you  once?  That  I  am 
responsible  for  you  to  the  Brotherhood  ? " 

He  spoke  calmly,  patiently,  as  if  he  were  ex- 
plaining things  to  a  child. 

If  his  associates  could  have  seen  the  cynical  Emile 
Poleski  of  ordinary  life  they  would  have  found 
reason  to  marvel! 

The  gesture  of  uncontrollable  horror  told  him 
that  she  understood  only  too  well.  What  should 
the  upholders  of  the  Cause  care  for  ties,  for  friend- 
ships, for  pity? 

If  she  were  recaptured  Emile  would  be  her  exe- 
cutioner. He  might  refuse,  but  that  would  not 


106  THE  HIPPODROME 

save  her  and  he  would  be  shot  as  well.  Why  should 
he  suffer  because  she  had  lost  her  courage  and 
turned  traitress  ? 

She  tried  to  collect  her  senses,  and  to  think  prop- 
erly. Everything  felt  blurred  and  far  off.  One 
thing  alone  seemed  certain  —  that  there  was  no 
way  out  of  the  impasse. 

Emile  had  walked  to  the  glass-door  and  unlocked 
it.  Then  he  came  back  to  her. 

"  It's  time  we  were  going,"  he  said.  "  It  will 
not  do  to  be  here  too  long.  As  our  friend  the  spy 
is  patrolling  the  street  outside  in  readiness  for  my 
appearance,  we  will  go  out  the  other  way.  The 
Calle  Santa  Teresa  is  nearly  always  deserted.  It's 
just  as  well  you  should  be  seen  with  me.  They 
don't  know  yet  that  you  are  working  for  us,  so  it 
will  look  less  as  if  I  were  en  route  for  a  meeting. 
But  before  we  start,  have  you  decided  to  be  wise 
and  to  save  me  from  an  unpleasant  duty  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I'll  stay.     At  least  while  you  are  here." 

"  While  I  am  here  ?  "  the  man  echoed.  "  Et 
alors—  ?" 

"  Then?  "  She  threw  out  her  arms  in  a  hopeless 
gesture.  "  Who  knows  ?  Who  can  read  the  fu- 
ture? And  after  all,  as  you  have  said,  '  What  does 
one  life  more  or  less  matter?"* 


"  Ninon,  Ninon,  que  fais-tu  de  la  vie ! " 

DE  MUSSET. 

ARITHELLI  awoke  next  day  in  her  comfortless  room, 
and  lay  wondering  over  the  waking  nightmare  of 
the  past  hours.  Everything  seemed  so  different  in 
the  morning.  There  was  no  thrill  of  excitement 
now,  nothing  to  make  her  blood  run  quickly.  She 
only  felt  flat,  dull,  stupid,  and  disinclined  to  move. 
How  strange  and  unlike  himself  Emile  had  been. 
She  had  lost  her  nerve,  raved,  and  threatened  to 
run  away,  and  he  had  neither  sneered  nor  abused 
her.  Her  hand,  still  wrapped  in  stained  linen,  had 
now  begun  to  burn  and  smart  considerably,  and 
was  proof  sufficient  of  the  reality  of  her  experience. 
Her  spine  and  the  soles  of  her  feet  tingled  as  she 
lived  again  through  the  horror  of  the  descent  from 
the  window.  She  could  never  endure  a  repetition 
of  that  ordeal.  Next  time  she  would  refuse  and 
they  could  add  one  more  murder  to  the  list  of  their 
crimes. 

She  dragged  herself  up  and  dressed  slowly.     She 
107 


io8  THE  HIPPODROME 

remembered  that  there  was  to  be  a  gala  perform- 
ance at  the  Hippodrome  that  night  in  honour  of 
the  presence  of  one  of  the  Infantas,  her  husband  and 
suite,  who  were  passing  through  the  town,  and 
had  announced  their  intention  of  being  present. 
For  all  the  performers  it  meant  more  work  and  an 
extra  rehearsal. 

When  Emile  came  in  they  shared  their  coffee  and 
rolls  together.  She  was  thankful  that  he  made  no 
reference  to  her  passionate  outburst  of  the  night  be- 
fore. He  was  outwardly  as  curt  and  dictatorial 
as  ever,  and  neither  of  them  discussed  the  affairs 
of  the  Brotherhood. 

"  I  must  go  down  to  practise,"  Arithelli  said 
after  a  while.  "  Shall  yon  be  there  to-night  ?  You 
know  there  is  to  be  a  grand  performance  in  honour 
of  the  Royalties?" 

"  No,"  answered  Emile,  "  I  shall  be  busy.  Be- 
sides, the  Royalties  will  be  safer  if  I'm  not  there ! 
We  don't  trouble  ourselves  about  these  particular 
ones  though.  They're  not  important  enough." 

"  I'm  sorry  you're  not  coming,"  Arithelli  an- 
swered. 

Emile  ungratefully  disregarded  the  implied  com- 
pliment, and  threw  out  a  blunt,  "  Why  ?  " 

"  I  don't  quite  know.  I  think  there  is  going  to 
be  something  unlucky." 


THE  HIPPODROME  109 

"  You're  going  to  tumble  off,  you  mean  ?  Better 
not!  You  don't  want  to  get  turned  out,  do  you?  " 

Arithelli  turned  to  a  mirror  on  the  wall. 

"  Do  I  look  very  ghastly?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  much  more  than  usual.  None  of  us  look 
very  fresh  out  here,  do  we?  Do  you  think  your 
hat  is  on  straight,  you  untidy  little  trollop?  Well, 
it  isn't!  Hurry  up, — it's  late.  No,  I'm  not  going 
down  there  with  you.  I'll  stay  here,  and  do  some 
writing." 

The  rehearsal  that  morning  seemed  interminable. 
For  the  first  time  since  she  had  ridden  in  public  Ari- 
thelli bungled  over  her  tricks.  She  jumped  short, 
miscalculated  distances,  and  once  barely  saved  her- 
self from  a  severe  fall. 

The  ring-master,  with  whom  she  was  a  great  fa- 
vourite, shook  his  head  reproachfully  at  her,  as  he 
paused  to  rest  and  wipe  his  heated  countenance. 
He  was  a  greasy  and  affable  personage,  whose  tem- 
per was  as  easy  as  his  morals.  He  was  more  soft- 
hearted than  most  of  his  compatriots,  and  he  hon- 
estly liked  Arithelli  and  admired  her  riding. 

"  What  have  you  there,  Mademoiselle  ?  "  he  en- 
quired pathetically.  "  Never  have  I  seen  you  like 
this  before.  You  fear  the  grand  people,  is  it  not 
so?  You  have  no  heart,  no  courage!  But  again! 
Again!" 


i  io  THE  HIPPODROME 

In  the  midst  of  his  exhortation  the  Manager  de- 
scended suddenly  upon  the  scene.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  he  had  been  watching  for  the  last  ten  minutes 
from  one  of  the  entrances,  and  he  had  seen  her  fail- 
ure to  accomplish  her  jumps  successfully. 

"  This  won't  do  for  to-night,"  he  said  angrily. 
"  We  want  your  best  work,  not  your  worst.  Do 
you  suppose  I'm  going  to  stand  your  laziness  ?  " 

Arithelli  was  sitting  at  ease  upon  Don  Juan's 
back  as  he  paced  slowly  round  the  ring.  She  did 
not  look  up  or  answer,  which  enraged  the  Manager 
still  further.  Her  silence  was  one  of  the  things' 
about  her  that  always  annoyed  him  most?  She  was 
the  only  woman  he  had  never  been  able  to  bully  into 
a  state  of  collapse. 

He  turned  on  the  ring-master,  who  was  grinning 
to  himself. 

"  Allez-vous  en!    I'll  see  to  this." 

Sefior  Valdez  looked  uncomfortable.  For  an  in- 
stant he  felt  almost  inclined  to  expostulate  on  Ari- 
thelli's  behalf,  but  the  Manager's  rages  were  well 
known  to  his  employes,  and  the  little  man  had  no 
intention  of  losing  his  present  position.  He  flung 
down  his  long  whip,  and  retired  muttering  ven- 
geance. 

The  Manager  strode  into  the  centre  of  the  ring, 
picked  up  the  lash  and  drew  it  through  his  fingers. 


THE  HIPPODROME  in 

He  swore  at  Arithelli,  he  swore  at  Don  Juan,  and 
he  started  the  rehearsal  all  over  again. 

Arithelli  clenched  her  teeth  and  rode  doggedly 
forward.  The  arena  swam  before  her,  and  her 
limbs  felt  weak  and  heavy  as  those  of  one  who  is 
drugged,  and  her  lacerated  hand  added  to  her  diffi- 
culties. That  she  should  presume  to  be  ill,  had  not 
entered  into  the  Manager's  calculations.  If  he  had 
realised  the  fact  he  would  have  said  that  people  who 
were  ill  were  of  no  use  in  a  circus,  and  the  sooner 
she  left  it  the  better. 

The  treadmill  continued  until  Arithelli  would 
have  welcomed  an  accident  as  a  break  in  the  grind- 
ing monotony.  The  exercise  instead  of  making 
her  hot,  had  made  her  shiver  as  if  with  great  cold. 
She  felt  as  if  she  had  been  practising  for  days  in- 
stead of  hours.  It  was  of  no  use!  She  could  not 
go  on  any  longer.  She  slipped  from  her  standing 
position  on  the  broad  pad  saddle  to  Don  Juan's 
back,  and  without  waiting  for  the  word  of  com- 
mand, reined  him  to  a  standstill  in  front  of  the 
Manager. 

"  You  must  let  me  go,"  she  said.  "  I  can't  do 
any  better  now." 

The  Manager  stepped  back  a  pace,  and  dropped 
his  whip  with  sheer  astonishment.  For  an  instant 
he  stared  with  open  mouth,  then  he  found  speech. 


ii2  THE  HIPPODROME 

"  You  sit  there,  do  you,  and  tell  me  you  refuse  to 
work!  You  with  your  insolence!  When  you  fall 
and  that  long  neck  of  yours  goes  crack  "  (he  snapped 
a  finger  and  thumb  together  in  expressive  panto- 
mime), "then  I  shall  laugh  —  nom  d'un  chien!  — 
how  I  shall  laugh." 

Arithelli  waited  in  silence,  a  faint  smile  curling 
her  lips.  One  hand,  laden  with  rings,  moved  ca- 
ressingly up  and  down  Don  Juan's  silky  mane.  She 
had  hitherto  answered  abuse  with  maddening  indif- 
ference. Now  she  flung  back  her  head  and  mocked 
him. 

"  So  you  hope  I'll  fall,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  I 
hope  so  too.  Do  you  think  I  care,  that  I'm  afraid 
of  breaking  my  neck?  " 

Her  voice  was  not  raised  a  tone  from  its  ordinary 
level,  but  passion  and  contempt  vibrated  in  ev- 
ery accent.  An  unwilling  admiration  stirred  the 
man's  dull  brutality.  He  could  dismiss  her  to-mor- 
row, but  he  would  never  find  another  woman  who 
would  be  her  match  for  physique  and  endurance. 
Besides,  others  would  know  their  value  and  demand 
a  larger  salary. 

He  pointed  to  the  performers'  exit     "~Allez!" 

As  she  rode  past,  Arithelli  made  him  a  little  bow. 
It  was  the  salute  of  a  courteous  duellist  to  his  ad- 
versary. To  his  profound  surprise  the  Manager 


THE  HIPPODROME  113 

found  himself  acknowledging  it,  with  like  dig- 
nity. 

At  eight  o'clock  that  evening  she  sat  before  the 
glass  in  her  dressing-room  and  awaited  the  shouted 
summons  of  the  impish  call-boy,  who  respected  no 
one  on  earth,  and  to  whom  she  was  never  "  Mam- 
zelle "  or  "  Sefiora,"  but  only  Arithelli.  The 
dresser  had  gone  out  for  an  instant,  leaving  the  door 
ajar,  and  a  noisy  burst  of  applause  swept  along  the 
passage. 

The  audience  was  in  a  particularly  good  temper, 
and  ready  to  be  amused  at  anything.  In  view  of 
the  royal  guests  the  Manager  had  provided  several 
exciting  novelties.  There  was  a  wonderful  troupe 
of  performing  horses  who  did  everything  that  a 
horse  is  popularly  supposed  to  be  incapable  of  do- 
ing; there  was  a  gypsy  girl  from  Seville  with  a  mar- 
vellous bear,  whose  intelligence  appeared  to  be  of 
a  superior  quality  to  that  of  the  average  human  be- 
ing; there  were  new  jokes,  new  tricks,  fresh  cos- 
tumes. 

As  Arithelli  rode  in  she  heard  her  name  called, 
and  her  state  of  frozen  misery  suddenly  gave  way 
to  a  hot  thrill  of  excitement. 

Her  head  went  up  like  a  stag,  and  her  nostrils  di- 
lated. She  inhaled  again  the  familiar  warm  scent 
of  freshly  strewn  tan  and  hay  and  animals.  It  had 


ii4  THE  HIPPODROME 

intoxicated  her  as  a  child  of  twelve,  when  she  had 
been  taken  to  see  a  travelling  circus  in  Ireland,  and 
it  intoxicated  her  now. 

The  seats  were  a  packed  mass  of  people,  and  in 
the  upper  places  and  from  the  royal  box,  bright  col- 
ours flamed,  and  jewels  and  restless  fans  glittered 
and  moved.  In  honour  of  the  occasion  every 
woman  had  draped  herself  in  the  graceful  mantilla, 
either  black  or  white,  and  even  the  poorest  wore  a 
scarlet  or  orange  silk-fringed  crepe  shawl. 

The  usual  precautions  as  to  detectives  and  a 
guard  of  soldiers  had  been  taken,  but  the  buxom 
and  amiable  Infanta  was  popular  among  the  lower 
orders,  so  that  no  revolutionist  outbreak  was  feared. 

Her  charities  were  famous,  her  diamonds  and 
Paris  toilettes  equally  so.  She  smiled  graciously 
at  Arithelli  as  horse  and  rider  bowed  before  her, 
and  pulling  out  a  few  blossoms  from  the  bouquet 
that  rested  on  the  ledge,  threw  them  into  the  arena. 
As  the  girl  looked  up  and  the  level  unsmiling  gaze 
met  hers,  the  older  woman  started  back. 

"Santa  Vierge!"  she  muttered,  hastily  crossing 
herself.  "  She  looks  in  Purgatory  already,  with 
those  strange  eyes !  " 


CHAPTER  X 

"  The  nights  that  were  days,  and  the  days  that  were  nights, 

Griefs  and  glories  and  vain  delights, 
With  Fame  before  us  in  fancy  flights, 
We  mocked  each  other  and  cried  '  All's  well ' !  " 

LOVE  IN  BOHEMIA. 

OF  her  first  act  Arithelli  had  no  fear.  She  knew 
that  she  was  safe  in  trusting  to  the  skill  and  train- 
ing of  her  horse  to  accomplish  successfully  all  the 
stereotyped  movements  of  the  haute  ecole.  She 
had  only  to  sit  still  and  look  graceful,  and  guide  him 
through  his  paces  as  he  waltzed,  turned  or  knelt. 
She  carried  a  whip  for  show,  but  she  had  never 
used  it.  A  word,  a  caress  had  always  been  enough, 
and  she  would  have  been  beaten  herself  rather  than 
touch  the  beautiful  creature  that  carried  her. 

In  the  next  act  it  would  be  all  different.  Every- 
thing depended  on  her  own  balance  and  accuracy. 
It  would  be  all  trick  work  then,  not  riding.  As  she 
slid  out  of  her  habit  and  into  the  ugly  ballet-skirts 
she  loathed,  her  courage  vanished  and  she  trembled 
as  she  faced  the  audience  for  the  second  time,  trans- 
formed in  white  satin  and  pale  blue,  the  thinness  of 
her  neck  and  arms  painfully  apparent. 

"5 


ii6  THE  HIPPODROME 

The  flying  rush  through  the  air  as  she  jumped  the 
hurdles  and  gates  made  her  feel  horribly  dazed  and 
giddy,  and  unable  to  collect  her  senses  in  time  for 
the  next  leap.  As  she  descended  lightly  in  her  heel- 
less  silk  slippers  upon  Don  Juan's  back  after  the 
fourth  hurdle  had  been  passed,  she  swayed  and  only 
by  a  violent  effort  recovered  herself.  Her  heart 
seemed  to  be  beating  right  up  in  her  throat  and 
choking  her.  She  put  up  one  hand  and  pulled  at 
her  turquoise  collar  till  the  clasp  gave  way  and 
thrust  the  blue  stones  into  the  low-cut  bodice.  The 
band  sounded  louder  than  ever,  the  light  danced  and 
waved.  Round  and  round  and  round  again,  while 
the  ring-master's  whip  cracked  monotonously. 

The  rhythm  of  the  waltz  beat  in  her  brain  as  the 
music  in  some  delirious  dream.  She  wondered 
dully  why  there  was  so  little  applause  now.  Was 
she  doing  so  badly?  Once  she  had  jumped  too 
low  and  knocked  against  a  hurdle  instead  of  clearing 
it  properly.  The  grooms  had  helped  her  by  lower- 
ing everything  as  much  as  possible,  but  all  they 
could  do  had  not  been  able  to  disguise  her  unwonted 
awkwardness. 

She  would  have  a  few  minutes'  rest  when  the 
clown  came  on,  and  perhaps  that  would  help  her  to 
go  through  the  rest  of  the  act  without  an  absolute 
breakdown. 


THE  HIPPODROME  117 

The  interlude  was  all  too  short,  the  signal  came 
and  she  sprang  up  and  poised  herself  mechanically. 
Again  the  waltz  music  struck  up  and  Don  Juan's 
hoofs  fell  with  a  soft  thud  upon  the  tan.  The  hur- 
dles and  gates  had  all  been  cleared  successfully,  and 
now  she  must  dismount  and  let  her  steed  go  round 
alone  while  she  ran  across  from  the  opposite  side 
of  the  ring  and  vaulted  from  the  ground  to  the  sad- 
dle. 

It  was  the  trick  she  had  found  impossible  to  get 
through  at  the  rehearsal,  the  trick  she  most  dreaded. 
Everything  depended  on  her  coolness  and  steadi- 
ness. She  must  start  exactly  at  the  right  time, 
and  measure  the  distance  with  unerring  precision. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  feared  the  audience. 
She  knew  too  well  the  fickle  nature  of  a  Spanish 
crowd.  To  a  performer  who  failed  to  please  them 
they  would  be  merciless.  People  who  screamed 
aloud  for  more  blood  when  the  sport  had  been  tame 
at  a  bull-fight,  people  who  habitually  tortured  their 
animals,  were  not  likely  to  show  consideration  to 
one  who  was  paid  to  entertain  them.  They  would 
applaud  furiously  one  minute  and  hiss  furiously  the 
next. 

As  she  stood  alone,  waiting,  she  glanced  instinc- 
tively towards  the  place  where  Emile  always  sat,  and 
wished  he  had  been  there.  He  would  be  angry  with 


n8  THE  HIPPODROME 

her  if  she  failed,  but  she  felt  somehow  that  he  would 
be  sorry  for  her  as  well.  Perhaps  he  might  even 
make  excuses  for  her,  for  he  was  the  only  person 
who  knew  about  the  episode  of  the  previous  night, 
and  her  injured  hand.  Sometimes  she  had  loved 
the  swaying  crowd  of  human  beings  for  whose 
amusement  she  risked  her  life  and  limbs.  Now  she 
hated  the  eager  watching  faces.  They  only  wanted 
to  see  her  fall,  she  told  herself. 

She  ran  blindly  across  the  open  space.  The  next 
instant  she  was  on  her  feet  on  the  ground  again  and 
Don  Juan  had  stopped  short.  Her  upward  leap  had 
carried  her  on  to  his  back,  but  she  had  not  been  able 
to  keep  her  balance. 

There  was  dead  silence  and  then  the  hissing  in  the 
audience  broke  out,  vehement  and  unrestrained. 

That  she  had  pleased  them  hitherto  went  for  noth- 
ing in  her  favour  now.  She  had  been  clumsy,  un- 
graceful, had  failed  —  that  was  enough. 

Arithelli  herself  scarcely  heard  the  sounds  of  ex- 
ecration, as  she  stood  swaying  with  one  hand  over 
her  eyes  to  shut  out  the  horrible  glare.  She  was 
conscious  only  of  that  and  the  strident  noise  of  the 
band,  and  the  sensation  of  choking  she  had  felt  once 
before.  The  instinct  of  all  animals  to  hide  them- 
selves in  the  dark  when  ill,  was  strong  upon  her. 

The  fat  little  ring-master,  who  alone  had  the  sense 


THE  HIPPODROME  119 

to  see  there  was  something  wrong,  advanced  and 
spoke  to  her  in  an  agitated  whisper.  She  gave 
him  her  hand  and  he  led  her  out,  leaving  her  hur- 
riedly to  go  back  and  apologise  to  the  irate  specta- 
tors, and  to  claim  their  indulgence  on  the  score  of 
her  sudden  faintness. 

Would  she  ever  get  to  her  room,  Arithelli  won- 
dered, as  she  struggled  down  the  passage.  It  had 
never  seemed  so  long  before.  Her  hand  went  up 
to  her  throat  again.  She  longed  for  something 
cool  to  drink  to  relieve  the  aching  and  dryness.  It 
must  be  caused  by  the  heat  and  dust  of  the  ring, 
she  thought. 

A  man's  voice  sounded  behind  her,  and  then  hur- 
rying footsteps.  She  pulled  her  long  blue  cloak 
round  her  and  went  on  without  answering  or  turn- 
ing her  head.  It  could  only  be  the  Manager  coming 
to  upbraid  her. 

An  arm  was  flung  round  her  protectingly  and  she 
turned  with  the  face  of  a  hunted  animal,  and  looked 
up  into  the  wild  dark  eyes  of  Vardri. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  You're  ill !  It's  no  won- 
der. Man  Dieu,  those  brutes  last  night  .  .  ." 

He  pulled  her  head  back  against  his  shoulder, 
dropping  his  voice  to  a  murmur  of  exquisite  gentle- 
ness. "  Mon  enfant  —  ma  petite  enfant! " 


120  THE  HIPPODROME  , 

"  You  saw  me  fall  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  The  men  told  me  when  they  brought  Don  Juan- 
out.  I  didn't  see  what  happened.  Were  you  hurt 
or  only  faint  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  hand  ?  That's  nothing.  Emile  says  it 
will  heal  in  a  day  or  two.  But  I  felt  so  stupid. 
.  .  .  Vardri,  you  don't  think  I'm  going  to  be  ill, 
do  you?  I've  never  been  ill  in  my  life  ... 
never ! " 

The  boy  made  some  incoherent  answer.  Her  pit- 
eous entreaty  tore  at  his  heart.  Every  fibre  in  his 
starved  body  ached  with  the  desire  to  give  her  the 
rest  and  peace  she  needed  above  all  things. 

What  could  he  do  without  money  ?  His  own  mis- 
erable wages  barely  served  for  necessities.  He  was 
only  a  useless  vagabond,  an  outcast.  He  ground 
his  teeth  together  at  the  thought  of  his  own  impo- 
tence. 

"  Courage,  little  one.  They  will  cheer  you  again 
to-morrow.  They  are  cruel,  these  Spaniards,  and 
fickle.  You  must  not  care." 

It  did  not  seem  strange  to  either  of  them  that  he 
should  be  holding  her  in  his  arms.  After  last  night 
everything  had  changed.  Love,  Youth,  and  Nature 
were  hard  at  work  weaving  the  bonds  that  drew 
them  together. 


THE  HIPPODROME  121 

The  fact  that  she  suffered  his  caresses  had  given 
him  the  right  of  manhood  to  protect  her,  to  be  her 
champion,  to  fight  her  battles.  If  he  could  do  noth- 
ing else  for  her,  at  least  he  could  fight.  For  him 
the  crown  of  happiness  could  be  found  in  loyal  serv- 
ice. Of  love-making  in  its  ordinary  sense,  Vardri 
neither  thought  nor  dreamed.  To  have  found  his 
Ideal,  the  one  woman,  surely  that  was  enough.  The 
innate  fastidiousness  that  goes  with  good  breeding 
had  kept  his  life  clean,  his  hands  unsoiled. 

He  had  hated  the  other  women  in  the  Circus,  and 
felt  sorry  for  them  at  the  same  time;  and  on  their 
side  they  liked  him  and  regarded  him  somewhat  as 
a  fool.  Their  voices,  their  coarse  expressions,  their 
light  jokes  all  jarred  on  him. 

He  pitied  them,  for  their  lives  were  as  hard  as 
his  own,  and  when  he  could  he  helped  them,  for 
among  the  wanderers  in  Bohemia  there  is  an  ever- 
abiding  comradeship.  The  element  of  fanaticism 
in  his  nature,  which  had  once  been  absorbed  by  the 
Cause,  now  spent  itself  upon  a  human  being. 

The  firm  yet  gentle  clasp  in  which  he  held  her, 
was  the  outward  symbol  of  the  love  and  courage 
that  made  him  tense  as  steel.  To  every  man  there 
comes  his  hour,  and  his  was  now.  Both  for  her 
sake  and  his  own  he  dare  not  keep  her  with  him. 


122  THE  HIPPODROME 

That  they  had  been  left  undisturbed  so  long  was  a 
miracle.  Besides,  as  she  was  ill,  the  sooner  she 
was  in  bed  the  better. 

He  half  led,  half  carried  her  to  the  door  of  her 
dressing  room,  and  she  thanked  him  with  a  smile, 
a  gesture.  Her  throat  hurt  so  much  that  all  speech 
was  an  effort. 

"  You  must  go  now,"  she  whispered.  "  You  will 
get  into  trouble  again  through  me." 

The  boy  threw  a  quick  furtive  glance  along  the 
whitewashed  passage.  With  characteristic  reck- 
lessness he  had  forgotten  that  the  chances  of  his 
summary  dismissal  were  looming  exceedingly  near. 

He  had  left  half  his  work  undone  the  previous 
night,  he  had  appeared  late  that  morning,  and  now 
he  was  in  a  part  of  the  building  to  which  all  the 
grooms  and  stable  helpers  were  forbidden  entrance. 

"  You'll  let  me  bring  you  home,"  he  pleaded. 

Arithelli  shook  her  head.     "  You  can't." 

"Is  Emile  coming  for  you?  You  shall  not  go 
alone,  that  I  swear !  " 

"  Emile  will  send  someone.  They  never  let  me 
go  alone.  If  you  will,  you  may  do  this.  If  I  am 
not  down  at  the  stables  at  half-past  eight  to-morrow, 
will  you  find  Emile  and  ask  him  to  come  to  me.  He 
will  be  there  doing  my  work." 

"And  you  will  sleep  and  be  well  to-morrow? 


THE  HIPPODROME  123 

To-morrow  you  will  ride  again,  and  there  will  be 
the  applause." 

Even  as  he  spoke  he  knew  his  words  were  fool- 
ishness. The  feverish  skin,  dry  lips  and  eyes  that 
were  like  burning  holes  in  the  thin  oval  face  were 
signs  and  tokens  enough  for  the  most  unseeing  of 
men.  And  Vardri  had  suffered  sufficiently  himself 
to  be  able  to  recognise  genuine  illness. 

She  slipped  from  his  arms. 

The  little  dreary  laugh  made  him  shiver. 

"  Mille  remerciments,  mon  camarade.  I'm  a  fail- 
ure, and  failures  are  best  left  alone.  C'est  ainsi 
que  la  vie!  " 

•         ••••*••• 

f 

Hers  was  the  sole  fiasco  in  an  otherwise  success- 
ful performance. 

The  final  spectacle  was  a  lurid  representation  of 
the  destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah. 

This  species  of  scriptural  tableaux  was  frequently 
given,  and  was  greatly  to  the  taste  of  the  spectators. 

Such  scenes  were  regularly  presented  in  the  the- 
atres and  heartily  enjoyed  by  the  superstitious  and 
devout  populace,  who  found  in  them  nothing  incon- 
gruous or  repulsive  to  their  piety. 

In  this  particular  display  the  Manager  had  ex- 
celled himself,  and  achieved  above  all  things  a  most 
vivid  realism. 


124  THE  HIPPODROME 

The  gentleman  who  impersonated  the  patriarch 
Lot  had  a  distinctly  modern  air,  and  resembled  a 
third-rate  Anarchist  in  depressing  circumstances. 

He  was  dark  and  swarthy,  and  possessed  a  fero- 
cious expression,  and  on  the  whole  suggested  a  car- 
icature of  Emile  in  his  worst  frame  of  mind. 

He  appeared  in  company  with  his  reluctant 
spouse,  whom  he  dragged  along  by  the  hand,  she 
meanwhile  obviously  unwilling  to  leave  the  urban 
delights  of  the  Cities  of  the  Plain  for  a  pastoral  and 
dull  existence  in  the  desert,  and  as  she  was  several 
sizes  larger  than  her  husband,  she  seemed  likely  to 
get  the  best  of  the  encounter. 

She  was  the  same  fat  Englishwoman  who  had 
driven  Arithelli's  horses  in  the  chariot.  She  was 
by  no  means  young,  she  had  applied  her  rouge  with 
a  lavish  hand,  and  her  golden  wig  was  an  outrage. 
Her  airs  and  graces  were  those  of  a  well-fed  op- 
eratic soprano. 

She  advanced  in  jerks,  she  clutched  at  her  plump 
anatomy  and  she  rolled  her  eyes  appealingly  at  the 
gallery,  which  responded  with  delighted  yells. 

In  her  train  came  a  small  flock  of  dejected-look- 
ing, but  real  sheep,  which  were  seemingly  inspired 
by  sufficient  intelligence  to  wish  to  avoid  thejcpm- 
ing  catastrophe. 

The  city  (or  cities)  was  represented  by  coarsely- 


THE  HIPPODROME  125 

painted  scenery,  and,  owing  to  some  defect  in  the 
perspective,  appeared  to  be  only  a  few  feet  from  the 
travellers,  though  doubtless  intended  to  fill  the  dis- 
tant horizon. 

The  fleeing  pair  jerked  slowly  across  the  stage  in 
time  to  subdued  but  brassy  music  from  the  Hippo- 
drome band,  the  sheep  followed,  and  thunder  and 
lightning  were  heard  and  seen. 

Flashes  and  bangs  resounded,  the  doomed  city 
rocked  upon  its  foundations,  and  the  audience 
joined  in  the  uproar. 

Sacks  full  of  .flour  descended  from  Heaven  and 
burst,  converting  the  fleshly  Mrs.  Lot  into  the  tradi- 
tional pillar  of  salt,  and  the  house  and  the  curtain 
were  brought  down  together. 

Restored  to  good-humour,  the  audience  had  for- 
gotten the  disgrace  and  failure  of  their  favourite 
equestrienne. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  I  am  tired  of  tears  and  laughter 
And  men  that  laugh  and  weep, 
Of  what  may  come  hereafter 

For  men  that  sow  and  reap. 
I  am  weary  of  days  and  hours. 
Blown  buds  of  barren  flowers, 
Desires  and  dreams  and  powers, 
And  everything  but  sleep." 

SWINBURNE. 

IF  anyone  had  told  Arithelli  that  she  was  in  for  a 
sharp  attack  of  diphtheria,  she  would  have  felt  sur- 
prised and  not  very  much  enlightened.  Her  igno- 
rance of  everything  connected  with  illness  was 
supreme,  and  since  childhood  she  had  had  no  recol- 
lection of  medicine  and  doctors.  Her  parents  in- 
dulged in  theories  on  the  subject  of  complaints,  the 
principal  one  being  a  large  disbelief  in  their  exist- 
ence. To  them  anything  unhealthy  or  ailing  was 
an  aversion,  a  thing  to  be  avoided  rather  than  pitied. 

For  accidents,  sprains  and  breakages  their  phar- 
macopoeia suggested  and  did  not  go  beyond  two 
ideas, —  salt  and  water  and  Nature. 

The  Oriental  strain  in  her  character  helped  her 
126 


THE  HIPPODROME  127 

to  endure  where  an  ordinary  woman  would  have 
fussed,  cried,  or  grumbled.  At  home  if  she  had 
had  a  fall  or  did  not  look  her  best  she  had  been  ex- 
pected to  consider  herself  in  disgrace,  and  to  keep 
out  of  the  way  till  such  time  as  she  had  completely 
recovered  her  looks  and  spirits. 

When  she  returned  to  her  lodgings,  it  did  not 
occur  to  her  to  rouse  the  landlady  and  demand  reme- 
dies or  attentions.  The  walk  home  had  been  a 
nightmare,  and  now  she  had  all  she  wanted  —  soli- 
tude and  the  blessed  darkness.  She  threw  off  her 
dress  and  boots,  and  walked  the  room  hour  after 
hour.  She  still  heard  the  brazen  band,  and  saw 
the  flaming  lights  and  her  ears  echoed  to  the  dread- 
ful sounds  of  hissing.  Sometimes  she  had  drunk 
feverishly  of  the  very  doubtful  water  against  which 
Emile  had  so  often  cautioned  her.  When  it  was 
nearly  dawn  she  gave  in,  and  lay  huddled  up  on  the 
bed,  half-delirious  with  the  pain  and  feeling  of 
suffocation. 

Two  streets  away,  and  in  a  room  more  squalid 
than  her  own,  Vardri  was  also  enduring  his  own  pri- 
vate Purgatory.  Hers  was  physical,  his  mental. 
That  was  all  the  difference. 

Long  before  half-past  eight  he  was  down  at  the 
stables  and  there  received  the  dismissal  he  had  fully 
expected,  being  ordered  off  the  premises  by  the 


128  THE  HIPPODROME 

head  groom,  who  had  received  directions  the  night 
before  to  give  Vardri  a  week's  wages,  and  turn  him 
out  of  the  place  without  delay.  It  was  no  use  pro- 
testing. The  Manager  was  not  yet  visible,  and  even 
if  he  had  been  Vardri  knew  there  was  no  appeal. 

There  had  been  complaints  about  his  negligence 
more  than  once,  and  of  course  he  had  been  missed 
on  the  previous  evening.  None  of  the  "  strappers  " 
would  have  reported  him,  but  one  of  the  clowns,  a 
Spaniard  with  whom  he  had  fought  for  ill-treating 
a  horse,  had  seen  him  leaving  the  vicinity  of  the 
dressing-rooms,  and  had  carried  the  information  to 
headquarters. 

The  informer  had  chosen  his  time  well,  and  had 
found  the  Manager  raging  over  Arithelli's  mishap, 
and  ready  to  dismiss  anyone  with  or  without  rea- 
son. 

Vardri  turned  his  back  on  the  place  whistling  de- 
fiance, and  with  his  courage  fallen  below  zero.  He 
would  have  liked  to  say  good-bye  to  the  horses,  and 
to  some  of  the  men  who  were  his  friends.  He  had 
never  disliked  the  actual  work,  and  it  was  at  the 
Hippodrome  that  he  had  first  met  Arithelli.  Her 
misfortune  and  his  had  come  together.  At  any 
other  time  it  would  not  have  been  quite  so  bad.  A 
few  months  ago  he  would  not  have  cared  whether 
he  lost  his  place  or  not. 


THE  HIPPODROME  129 

There  had  been  nothing  much  in  life  then,  and 
one  could  always  find  a  short  way  out  of  it  via  the 
water  or  an  overdose  of  something. 

But  now  the  world  was  changed,  and  he  craved 
for  Life  and  the  fulness  of  Life,  for  he  had  tasted 
happiness  and  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  outer 
courts  of  the  House  of  Love.  He  had  no  friends 
who  could  have  helped  him,  and  no  qualifications 
for  earning  his  living  at  any  other  trade  or  pro- 
fession. He  had  begun  life  with  a  luxurious  home, 
a  refined  and  useless  education,  and  the  mind  of  a 
dreamer,  an  idealist.  None  of  these  things  were 
valuable  assets  in  his  present  career. 

Like  Arithelli  he  spoke  several  languages  more 
or  less  fluently,  and  like  her  again  possessed  both 
understanding  and  a  love  of  horses,  but  what  avail 
were  these  things  when  he  had  neither  money,  ref- 
erences nor  influence,  and  as  a  further  disadvantage 
he  was  known  to  be  an  associate  of  the  revolution- 
aries, and  his  tendency  to  consumption  would  keep 
him  out  of  many  kinds  of  employment. 

He  turned  over  the  few  coins  in  his  hand.  Just 
enough  to  keep  him  for  a  week  and  then  —  the  del- 
uge! 

He  waited,  prowling  up  and  down  the  street,  im- 
patiently until  Emile  appeared  in  the  distance. 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  two  men  were  at  the 


130  THE  HIPPODROME 

door  of  Arithelli's  lodgings.  The  landlady  met 
them  on  the  stairs,  hag-like  in  the  disarray  of  the 
early  morning,  and  evidently  terrified  out  of  such 
humanity  as  she  possessed  by  the  fear  of  infection. 
She  had  gone  up  with  the  early  morning  coffee 
and  found  Arithelli  raving  aloud  and  tearing  at  her 
throat.  Her  first  thought  had  been  to  turn  the  girl 
out  of  doors,  or,  as  she  was  obviously  incapable  of 
moving,  to  send  for  a  priest  and  a  nursing  sister, 
and  have  her  taken  to  the  public  hospital.  A  whole- 
some fear  of  Emile  prevented  her  from  giving  utter- 
ance to  these  charitable  impulses. 

She  invoked  every  saint  in  the  calendar,  whose 
name  she  could  remember,  and  crossed  herself  with 
automaton-like  energy. 

She  could  not,  she  protested,  be  expected  to  nurse 
such  a  dangerous  case  of  fever  as  this  undoubtedly 
was.  There  was  her  son,  the  adored  of  her  old 
age.  Santa  Maria!  If  he  also  were  stricken! 

Emile  pushed  her  on  one  side.  "  I'll  talk  to  you 
presently,"  he  said  in  her  own  dialect.  "  If  you  are 
going  into  hysterics  with  fright  you'll  catch  any- 
thing that  is  catching.  If  you  behave  sensibly  you 
won't." 

The  window  was  fully  open  and  the  green  shut- 
ters thrown  back,  and  the  fierce  sunlight  streamed 
into  Arithelli's  room,  which  showed  more  than  its 


THE  HIPPODROME  131 

normal  disorder.  The  tray  with  the  cafe  complet 
was  on  the  floor  where  the  landlady  had  left  it  on 
her  hasty  stampede  downstairs,  half-a-dozen  tur- 
quoise rings  lay  strewn  over  a  little  table,  where 
they  had  been  thrown  when  they  were  dragged  off, 
boys'  clothes  trailed  over  the  back  of  one  chair,  and 
a  blue  skirt  over  another.  The  only  orderly  thing 
visible  was  the  immaculate  row  of  fine  kid  boots, 
long,  narrow,  pearl-grey,  tan  and  champagne-col- 
oured. 

Arithelli  lay  on  the  big  bed  under  the  faded  can- 
opy. She  had  wrapped  herself  in  a  thin  blue  pei- 
gnoir, and  her  face  was  half  hidden  in  tangled  hair. 
The  tumbled  bed-clothes  were  pulled  to  one  side 
and  dragging  on  the  dusty  boards.  She  was  quite 
unconscious  of  anyone's  presence,  and  moaned  softly 
in  a  strangled  fashion. 

The  two  men  stood  without  speaking,  and 
watched  the  writhing,  restless  figure.  Vardri 
turned  away  first  with  a  smothered  exclamation. 
Would  he  always  be  obliged  to  see  her  tortured  in 
some  way  or  another?  The  Fates  were  sending 
him  more  than  any  man  could  bear  to  look  upon. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  said  roughly 
in  French,  "  I  can't  stand  seeing  this !  " 

Emile  showed  no  signs  of  surprise  at  the  other's 
manifest  anxiety,  possibly  because  his  own  was  as 


132  THE  HIPPODROME 

deep,  though  his  method  of  expressing  it  was  differ- 
ent. He  felt  helpless,  and,  being  a  man,  resented 
the  feeling,  so  by  consequence  his  always  rugged 
manner  became  even  more  unpleasant  than  usual. 

"  Well,"  he  rejoined,  "  what  can  you  expect  in 
this  filthy  place?  This  street  isn't  so  bad,  but  of 
course  she  has  so  often  been  down  in  those  slums 
in  the  Parelelo.  The  Calle  de  Pescadores  alone  is 
enough  to  give  anyone  a  fever.  I  think  Sobrenski 
has  made  a  point  of  sending  her  down  every  poison- 
ous street  in  the  place.  Ireland's  a  clean  country, 
you  see,  compared  with  this,  so  she  hasn't  much 
chance,  and  as  she  starves  herself  half  the  time  that 
won't  make  things  any  better." 

"She  must  have  some  woman  to  look  after  her. 
I  suppose  the  landlady  here  will  be  no  good  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  pay  her. —  Who's  going  to  do 
that?" 

"  There's  Estelle." 

"  Estelle ! "  Emile  exploded  a  fierce  Russian 
oath.  "Do  you  want  more  hysterics?"  Vardri 
was  tramping  up  and  down  the  room  with  the  noise- 
less agility  of  an  animal,  his  fingers  mechanically  at 
work  at  a  cigarette. 

"  She  must  have  a  doctor  too.  Isn't  there  an 
English  doctor  here  ?  " 

"Probably.     Do  you  propose  to  pay  him  too?" 


THE  HIPPODROME  133 

The  dryly  sarcastic  voice,  the  practical  question 
brought  Vardri  down  from  the  clouds  to  the  hard 
facts  of  life.  Illnesses  and  doctors  were  expensive 
things.  He  had  no  money,  and  Emile  very  little. 

"  I'll  get  a  Scetir  de  Charlte  from  one  of  the  con- 
vents. She'll  come  for  nothing.  Nursing  is  their 
work.  I  was  —  I  mean  I'm  a  Catholic.  She's  a 
Catholic,  too,  isn't  she?" 

"  No,  she  hates  them.  She  was  educated  in  a 
convent,  where  as  far  as  I  can  gather  from  her  own 
account  she  acquired  more  learning  than  piety.  Un- 
der the  present  circumstances  I  can  only  suggest 
the  horse-doctor." 

"  What's  the  use  of  —  ?" 

"  I  believe  he  began  by  doctoring  human  beings, 
but  like  the  rest  of  us  out  here,  he  is  a  little  under  a 
cloud.  He  prefers  animals  now.  They  don't 
tell  tales.  Human  beings  do.  Besides,  he's  Eng- 
lish, or  rather,  Irish.  Better  go  and  tell  him  to 
come  up.  You  know  his  rooms.  Tell  him  it's  in- 
fectious, and  he  can  bring  up  a  few  cigarettes  for 
me  if  he  feels  generous.  Don't  trouble  about  your 
Sceur  de  Charite.  I'll  see  that  the  woman  here 
makes  herself  useful." 

Vardri  flung  himself  out  of  the  room  and  down 
the  rickety  stairs  at  breakneck  speed,  thankful  be- 
yond measure  for  the  relief  of  action. 


134  THE  HIPPODROME 

Emile  subsided  into  a  chair  and  smoked  furiously 
and  meditated  upon  the  untoward  situation.  Being 
of  a  practical  turn  of  mind  he  began  to  make  cal- 
culations. Vardri  had  told  him  briefly  of  how  Ari- 
thelli  had  failed  in  the  trick-riding,  fallen  off  her 
horse,  and  been  hissed  out  of  the  ring.  The  loss 
of  popularity  might  mean  the  end  of  her  career. 
In  any  case  he  could  see  she  was  desperately  ill,  and 
there  was  small  chance  of  her  being  about  under 
three  weeks,  and  even  then  she  would  not  be  able 
to  work  at  once.  Meanwhile  they  had  exactly  two 
pounds  a  week  to  live  upon. 

Truly  women  added  to  the  complications  of  life! 
He  might  borrow  money,  but  that  was  a  thing  to  be 
resorted  to  only  in  the  last  extremity.  Most  of  the 
members  of  his  Circle  were  as  poor  as  himself  or 
poorer.  They  were  all  bound  together  by  the  tie 
of  brotherhood,  and  no  one  would  have  grudged  or 
refused  a  loan,  but  Emile  scrupled  to  borrow  from 
those  who  were  in  greater  privation  than  himself. 

Sobrenski  was  fairly  well  off,  but  he  lived  like  an 
ascetic  and  gave  everything  to  the  Cause;  besides, 
Sobrenski  was  out  of  the  question.  To  appeal  to 
him  on  Arithelli's  behalf  would  only  be  to  give  him 
a  chance  for  refusal  and  a  jeer  at  female  conspira- 
tors. 

Her  turquoise  rings  Emile  collected  from  the  ta- 


THE  HIPPODROME  135 

ble,  and  put  them  into  his  pocket ;  her  collar  of  tur- 
quoises he  rescued  from  the  floor,  where  it  had  fal- 
len when  she  took  off  her  bodice.  The  jewels  could 
all  be  turned  into  the  money  they  needed  so  badly. 
Of  course  she  had  not  saved  a  single  peseta.  Emile 
had  the  handling  of  her  salary,  and  he  knew  that 
anything  left  over  from  the  expenses  of  food  and 
lodging  went  in  clothes  and  her  particular  vanity, 
dainty  boots. 

She  was  lavishly  generous  to  the  Hippodrome 
staff,  and  there  was  always  a  certain  tribute  claimed 
from  all  its  adherents  by  the  Cause. 

He  did  not  hunt  further  for  valuables.  If  there 
was  either  money  or  jewellery  in  Arithelli's  posses- 
sion it  was  sure  to  be  found  in  quite  a  conspicuous 
place. 

The  varied  life  of  the  city  surged  to  and  fro  be- 
neath the  window,  the  varied  noises  floated  up  into 
the  room,  and  under  the  faded  red  brocade  curtains, 
Arithelli  turned  from  side  to  side  and  moaned  with 
closed  eyes.  A  seller  of  fruit  passed,  crying  his 
wares. 

Emile  went  down  into  the  street  and  bought  a 
couple  of  oranges,  and  squeezed  the  juice  into  the 
cup  that  had  been  destined  for  the  coffee. 

He  had  not  the  least  idea  as  to  what  particular 
malady  Arithelli  had  developed,  but  he  knew  that 


136  THE  HIPPODROME 

fever  and  delirium  always  went  together,  and  that 
with  fever  there  is  invariably  thirst.  He  lifted  her 
up  and  pushed  the  pillow  higher  to  relieve  her 
breathing,  but  he  could  hardly  do  more  than  moisten 
her  parched  and  bitten  lips.  Then  he  "  tidied  "  the 
bed  with  masculine  pulls  and  jerks  till  it  was  even 
more  untidy  than  before,  and  went  back  to  his  chair. 
There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  for  her  in  the 
way  of  alleviation  till  the  doctor  came. 

He  took  up  a  book,  and  tried  to  shut  his  ears  and 
distract  his  thoughts.  As  he  stared  unseeingly  at 
the  printed  pages,  there  suddenly  flashed  into  his 
brain  the  name  of  Count  Vladimir,  the  owner  of 
"  The  Witch."  Here  was  the  very  man  to  whom 
he  could  confidently  apply  for  help  in  the  present 
difficulties,  for  the  Russian  had  made  it  his  business 
in  life  to  bestow  his  wealth  in  assisting  the  revolu- 
tionaries. Emile  decided  that  he  would  write  to- 
morrow, when  he  had  acquired  certain  particulars 
as  to  the  address  he  wanted. 

Fatalite  had  done  good  work  for  the  Cause,  he 
argued,  therefore  let  those  who  supported  the  or- 
ganisation keep  her  till  she  was  able  to  work  again. 

The  next  task  he  would  have  to  undertake  would 
be  that  of  bullying  or  bribing  the  landlady  into  a 
promise  to  undertake  at  least  some  of  the  duties  of 
a  sick-room.  The  rest  of  the  nursing  he  proposed 


THE  HIPPODROME  137 

to  do  himself.  He  grinned  as  he  lit  another  evil- 
smelling  cigarette,  at  the  thought  of  Vardri's  pro- 
posal. 

He  possessed  an  artistic  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things,  and  the  suggested  Socur  de  Charite  appealed 
to-  him  as  being  quite  out  of  the  picture.  Besides 
Arithelli  had  no  respect  for  priests  or  nuns ;  Emile 
remembered  her  inimitable  descriptions  of  the  spy- 
ing u  Children  of  Mary,"  and  she  should  not  be 
worried  with  either  if  he  could  help  it. 

Yes,  certainly  the  incapable  old  landlady  would 
be  preferable  to  a  white-capped  religeuse,  for  the 
latter,  though  not  likely  by  virtue  of  her  training 
to  be  scared  by  the  physical  atmosphere,  would  un- 
doubtedly be  appalled  by  the  mental  and  moral  one. 
Most  likely  she  would  take  advantage  of  Arithelli's 
weakness  to  persuade  her  of  the  danger  of  her 
present  way  of  living.  The  Church  of  Rome  is 
never  slow  at  seizing  the  chance  of  making  a  con- 
vert, and  the  power  of  the  Church  in  Spain  is  a 
byword. 

Though  Emile  had  a  profound  scorn  for  conven- 
tions, he  had  at  one  time  had  his  place  among  that 
class  of  human  beings  that  calls  itself  "  Society," 
and  he  knew  its  rules  and  ways  as  he  despised  its 
hypocrisies.  He  could  look  at  Arithelli's  position 
quite  judicially,  and  as  an  outsider.  The  world, 


138  THE  HIPPODROME 

religious  and  otherwise,  would  certainly  not  give 
her  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 

She  was  young,  she  was  possessed  of  a  weird 
and  haunting  beauty,  she  had  no  women  friends,  no 
relations,  and  no  companions  but  a  set  of  law-break- 
ers, all  of  whom  were  men.  No  one  would  believe 
that  she  was  untouched,  unawakened,  that  she  had 
been  treated  as  a  boy,  and  her  womanhood  not  so 
much  respected  as  ignored.  If  anyone  put  the 
wrong  ideas  into  her  head,  Emile  reflected,  it  was 
sure  to  be  one  of  her  own  sex. 

Having  matured  his  plans  he  descended  to  the 
kitchen  regions,  manufacturing  impressive  threats 
en  route. 

Here  an  answer  to  his  problem  presented  it- 
self, or  rather  herself.  The  landlady  had  a  niece 
who  came  in  daily  to  assist  in  household  matters, 
and  take  part  in  a  duet  of  feminine  gossip. 

She  was  a  solid  young  woman  of  unmoved  coun- 
tenance, who  was  quite  prepared  to  nurse  the  ten 
plagues  of  Egypt,  providing  she  received  sufficient 
remuneration.  She  proposed  to  get  married  at  the 
earliest  opportunity  and  what  Emile  offered  her 
would  be  of  great  assistance  in  providing  her  bridal 
finery. 

The  two  came  to  an  agreement  rapidly,  and  Emile 
climbed  the  stairs  again,  triumphant. 


THE  HIPPODROME  139 

He  began  to  feel  anxious  about  the  doctor.  Two 
hours  had  passed  and  there  was  no  sight  of  him. 
He  might  be  out,  or  he  might  be  drunk.  Emile 
knew  the  little  weakness  of  Michael  Furness,  and 
as  Vardri  had  not  returned  it  meant  that  he  was 
still  searching. 

At  last  the  horse-doctor  arrived,  grunting  and 
ruffling  up  his  crest  of  curly  black  hair.  He  had 
a  large  heart  by  way  of  counterbalance  to  his  many 
failings,  and  he  was  interested  in  Arithelli,  for  he 
had  come  across  her  once  or  twice  in  the  stables, 
and  had  heard  various  picturesque  stories  of  her 
exploits.  He  might  have  been  a  success  in  his  own 
profession,  but  for  the  two  temptations  that  beset 
every  Irishman  —  whisky  and  horses. 

He  had  left  his  practice  in  the  city  of  Cork,  as 
Emile  had  said,  somewhat  under  a  cloud,  and  had 
given  up  whisky  for  the  absinthe  of  the  cafes,  and 
had  not  regretted  the  exchange.  He  made  his  ex- 
amination quickly,  handling  the  girl  with  a  sur- 
prising skill  and  deftness,  in  spite  of  his  big  clumsy- 
looking  hands. 

When  he  touched  her  she  opened  her  eyes. 

"Mais,  ou  suis  je?"  she  murmured,  painfully 
dragging  out  the  words.  Then  followed  Emile's 
name. 

The  doctor  laid  her  back  gently,  and  stood  "hold- 


140  THE  HIPPODROME 

ing  one  of  her  wrists.  "  She  thinks  it's  you,  Po- 
leski!  'Tis  diphtheria.  A  bad  case,  too.  Shall 
want  some  looking  afther.  Who's  seeing  to  her?  " 

"  I  am,"  responded  Emile,  coolly. 

"  The  divil  ye  are !  "  The  Irishman's  long  upper 
lip  twitched  humorously.  "  Well,  treat  her  gintly 
then,  me  bhoy !  You're  wise  to  be  smoking.  Less 
chance  of  infection.  I'll  keep  you  company."  He 
produced  a  couple  of  thin  black  cigars,  and  handed 
one  to  Emile. 

"  See,  now,"  Michael  Furness  added  seriously,  "  I 
may  as  well  be  telling  you  the  truth.  Your  little 
friend  there  hasn't  a  very  big  chance.  She's  been 
going  to  bits  for  some  time.  If  it  hadn't  been  this 
it  would  have  been  something  else.  She's  got  a 
grand  physique,  so  there's  hope.  If  she's  worse 
by  to-morrow  she  ought  to  have  an  operation.  Only 
I  can't  undertake  it,  ye  see.  There's  the  trouble. 
My  hand  isn't  as  steady  as  it  was,  and  I  haven't  the 
instruments." 

Emile  nodded.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  opera- 
tion of  tracheotomy,  and  though  he  spoke  English 
well  he  found  it  difficult  to  follow  Michael's  soft, 
thick,  County  Cork  speech. 

"  She's  a  grand  heap  of  a  girl,  isn't  she?"  con- 
tinued that  gentleman,  regarding  Arithelli  with 
kindly  eyes.  He  had  all  the  Celt's  love  of  romance, 


THE  HIPPODROME  141 

and  the  ingrained  reverence  of  the  Irish  Catholic 
for  women.  "  This  isn't  the  place  for  girls,  at  all, 
at  all!  And  they  tell  me  she's  from  the  old  coun- 
try. Will  I  be  sending  up  one  of  the  good  Sisthers 
to  see  after  her,  and  put  things  to  rights  a  bit?  " 

For  the  second  time  that  day  Emile  ungratefully 
rejected  the  ministrations  of  the  Church.  He  knew 
that  no  one  else  in  Spain  ever  thought  of  employing 
anyone  but  the  religious  orders  as  nurses,  but  he 
preferred  to  arrange  things  in  his  own  way  and  said 
so. 

"  Ah,  well  then !  "  said  Michael  amiably,  "  give 
her  something  to  drink  if  she  wants  it.  That's  all. 
I'll  look  in  again  this  evening.  She'll  have  taken  a 
turn  then  one  way  or  the  other.  It's  a  quick  thing, 
this." 

Arithelli's  ministering  angels  left  in  each  other's 
company.  Michael  drifted  back  to  his  favourite 
cafe,  while  Emile  betook  himself  to  the  Hippodrome 
to  wage  war  with  that  amiable  functionary,  the 
Manager.  The  strife  was  both  noisy  and  pro- 
longed, and  resulted  in  only  a  partial  victory  for 
Emile.  With  many  picturesque  oaths  the  Man- 
ager accused  himself  of  folly  unspeakable  in  not  dis- 
missing Arithelli  at  once. 

She  had  a  contract?  Yes!  But  in  it  there  was 
no  allowance  made  for  incompetence  and  non-ap- 


142  THE  HIPPODROME 

pearance.  It  only  stipulated  that  she  should  be 
paid  for  doing  her  work.  She  had  not  done  it, 
and  moreover  she  had  refused  to  practise.  That 
he  should  be  expected  to  continue  to  pay  her  a  sal- 
ary even  of  the  smallest  description  while  she  lay 
in  bed  was  a  monstrous  impertinence. 

Would  he  not  have  the  trouble  and  expense  of 
getting  another  artiste  to  fill  her  place?  There 
must  be  an  equestrienne  in  the  programme.  If  she 
found  herself  taken  back  again  to  finish  her  time 
after  this  illness  or  whatever  it  was,  then  she  should 
be  more  than  grateful,  but  as  for  paying  salaries  to 
employes  who  did  not  work,  why,  did  people  con- 
sider him  an  imbecile? 

Emile  shrugged  and  sneered  at  intervals  through- 
out this  tirade.  He  had  wisely  begun  by  asking 
more  than  he  knew  he  was  at  all  likely  to  get,  and 
was  now  obliged  to  be  satisfied  with  the  compro- 
mise. 

Disappointment  followed  his  search  for  the 
whereabouts  of  Count  Vladimir.  The  owner  of 
"  The  Witch  "  was  expected  back  in  Barcelona  in  a 
month  or  so,  no  one  knew  exactly  when.  Letters 
might  be  addressed  Poste  Restante,  Corfu,  for  he 
was  cruising  in  his  phantom  craft  through  those 
sapphire  seas  that  lie  round  about  the  Ionian  Is- 
lands. 


THE  HIPPODROME  143 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  write  and  wait. 
One  piece  of  ill-luck  was  following  close  upon  an- 
other, and  Emile  felt  that  he  needed  all  the  con- 
solations that  his  cynical  philosophy  could  afford. 

His  anxiety  on  Arithelli's  behalf  was  fast  be- 
coming an  obsession.  When  she  had  first  come 
into  his  life  he  had  wondered  sometimes  how  she 
would  stand  the  late  hours  and  all  the  hardships  of 
a  circus  training,  but  after  her  one  outburst  she  had 
never  complained  again. 

He  thought  the  sea-trip  had  done  her  good.  Of 
course  she  always  looked  pale,  but  then  that  was 
her  type. 

He  had  also  been  impressed  with  the  unwonted 
seriousness  of  Michael,  knowing  that  in  spite  of  his 
erratic  ways  the  doctor  understood  his  craft. 

Emile's  instinct  prompted  him  vigorously  to  go 
back  now  and  see  how  she  was  getting  on,  but  he 
dared  not  neglect  the  work  of  his  Society.  There 
were  letters  to  be  written,  arrangements  to  be  made, 
all  the  usual  paraphernalia  of  intrigue  to  be  kept 
going. 

He  returned  to  his  own  rooms  and  began  to  write 
savagely,  using  all  his  will  to  expel  from  his  brain 
the  vision  of  the  girl  as  he  had  seen  her  last,  semi- 
conscious, and  yet  with  his  name  on  her  lips. 

Michael  had  promised  to  see  her  again  at  six 


144  THE  HIPPODROME 

o'clock.  It  would  be  time  enough  if  he  also  went 
then.  Besides,  the  Cause  came  first  always,  and 
there  were  many  women  in  the  world.  His  pen 
tore  fiercely  over  the  paper  as  something  whispered : 
"Women?  Yes.  But  another  Arithelli  — ?" 


CHAPTER  XII 

"I  have  something  more  to  think  of  than  Love.    All  the 
women  in  the  world  would  not  make  me  waste  an  hour." 

SAYING  OF  NAPOLEON. 

THE  stolid  niece  blundered  heavily  about  the  room, 
doing  things  that  were  entirely  unnecessary,  and 
raising  much  dust.  She  was  a  conscientious  per- 
son in  her  own  way,  and  felt  that  she  must  get 
through  a  certain  amount  of  work  in  return  for  the 
anticipated  reward. 

She  banged  chairs  and  table  about,  folded  up 
scattered  clothes,  investigated  them  with  much  in- 
terest, and  fingered  and  re-arranged  the  row  of 
boots  with  muttered  ejaculations  and  covetous  eyes. 
She  had  previously  contrived  to  get  Arithelli  into 
a  night  dress,  had  brushed  her  hair  back  and  plaited 
it,  and  pulled  the  green  shutters  together  to  keep 
out  the  midday  glare. 

As  she  looked  at  the  livid  face  patched  with  scar- 
let against  the  coarse  linen,  Maria  began  to  feel  a 
little  perturbed.  Something  in  the  atmosphere  of 
the  room  had  penetrated  even  the  brick  wall  of  her 

145 


146  THE  HIPPODROME 

stolidity.  She  hoped  the  two  Senors  would  soon 
return  and  relieve  her  of  the  responsibility  of  her 
charge. 

The  stillness  oppressed  her,  for  Arithelli  had 
ceased  her  moaning  and  muttering  for  a  merciful 
stupor. 

As  the  hours  went  on  the  fever  increased,  and  the 
horrible  fungus  in  her  throat  spread  with  an  appall- 
ing rapidity. 

As  Michael  Furness  had  prophesied,  the  crisis 
would  soon  be  reached,  and  she  had  everything  save 
youth  against  her  in  the  fight  for  life. 

Maria  crossed  herself  perfunctorily  and  mumbled 
a  few  prayers.  Doubtless  the  Senora  was  like  all 
the  English,  a  heretic,  and  therefore,  according  to 
the  comfortable  tenets  of  the  Roman  faith,  eternally 
damned,  but  a  little  prayer  would  do  no  harm,  and 
would  be  counted  to  herself  as  an  act  of  charity. 

That  ceremony  over,  more  mundane  considera- 
tions engrossed  her  mind.  She  could  smell  the  pun- 
gent odour  of  the  olla  podrida,  or  national  stew,  in- 
sinuating itself  through  the  half-open  door,  and  she 
knew  that  if  she  were  not  present  at  the  meal,  there 
would  be  more  than  one  hungry  mouth  ready  to  de- 
vour her  share. 

She  drew  a  breath  of  relief  as  she  marched  heav- 
ily downstairs  to  the  more  congenial  surroundings 


THE  HIPPODROME  147 

of  the  kitchen.  She  had  done  her  duty.  Sefior 
Poleski  had  not  told  her  to  stay  in  the  room  all  the 
time  he  was  away,  and  she  could  easily  be  back  again 
before  he  came  in. 

Michael  was  the  first  to  appear,  almost  aggres- 
sively sober,  and  carrying  a  small  wooden  box. 
His  interest  in  his  case  was  as  much  human  as  pro- 
fessional, and  instead  of  wasting  the  afternoon, 
after  his  usual  custom,  loafing  and  drinking,  he  had 
gone,  after  one  modest  glass  of  the  rough  Val  de 
Penas,  to  search  in  out-of-the-way  streets  for  a  cer- 
tain herbalist  of  repute. 

This  was  an  aged  Spanish  Jew,  unclean  and  ca- 
daverous, with  patriarchal  grey  beard  and  piercing 
eyes,  a  man  renowned  for  his  marvellous  cures 
among  the  peasantry. 

He  was  regarded  more  or  less  as  a  wizard,  though 
his  wizardry  consisted  solely  in  a  knowledge  of 
natural  remedies,  and  the  exercise  of  a  power  which 
would  have  been  described  at  the  Paris  Salpetriere 
as  hypnotic  suggestion.  By  the  aid  of  this  he  was 
able  to  inspire  his  patients  with  the  faith  so  neces- 
sary to  a  successful  treatment. 

Michael  was  not  fettered  in  any  way  by  the  or- 
dinary conventions  of  a  practitioner.  He  had 
neither  drugs  nor  instruments  of  his  own  where- 
with to  effect  a  cure  on  ordinary  lines,  and  what  he 


1 48  THE  HIPPODROME 

had  seen  of  herbalists  in  Spain  had  inspired  him 
with  a  vast  respect  for  the  simplicity  and  success  of 
their  methods.  The  wooden  box  contained  a  quan- 
tity of  leaves  which,  steeped  in  scalding  water,  and 
applied  to  the  patient's  throat,  possessed  the  power 
of  reducing  the  inflammation  and  drawing  out  the 
poison  through  the  pores  of  the  skin.  Of  their 
efficacy  Michael  entertained  not  the  slightest  doubt. 

He  walked  straight  to  the  bed,  and  glanced  at 
Arithelli's  throat,  now  almost  covered  with  white 
patches  of  membrane.  There  was  no  time  to  waste 
if  she  was  to  be  saved  from  the  ghastliness  of  slow 
suffocation. 

He  went  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  yelled 
lustily  for  Maria,  whom  he  commanded  to  produce 
boiling  water  immediately,  thus  further  adding  to 
the  reputation  of  the  mad  English  for  haste  and 
unreasonableness. 

Then  he  took  off  his  coat,  rolled  up  his  sleeves, 
and  began  busily  to  clear  a  space  on  the  table,  on 
which  he  emptied  the  contents  of  the  box. 

All  his  movements  had  suddenly  become  alert 
and  energetic.  The  joy  of  the  true  physician,  the 
healer,  had  awakened  in  him  at  the  prospect  of  a 
duel  with  Death,  and  he  was  no  longer  merely  the 
slouching,  good-natured  wastrel  who  doctored 
horses  at  the  Hippodrome, 


THE  HIPPODROME  149 

He  possessed  for  the  moment  the  dignity  of  a 
leader,  of  the  master  of  a  situation.  He  smiled  to 
himself  as  he  moved  about  humming  a  verse  of 
"  Let  Ireland  remember,"  and  swept  away  a  debris 
of  books,  a  rouge  pot,  some  dead  flowers,  and  a 
large  over-trimmed  hat. 

"  Shure  'tis  back  in  the  surgery  again  I  am,"  he 
told  himself,  while  his  lean,  ugly  face  beamed  with 
satisfaction. 

No  one  who  knew  Michael  Furness  had  ever 
suspected  the  regret  by  which  he  was  for  ever 
haunted,  regret  at  the  loss  of  his  profession.  His 
rollicking  manner  made  it  impossible  to  believe 
him  capable  of  any  depth  of  feeling,  and  he  had 
a  trick  of  talking  least  about  the  things  for 
which  he  cared  most.  The  failing  that  banned  him 
from  his  work  was  an  inherited  one.  He  suffered 
for  the  sins  of  his  fathers,  for  the  indulgences  of 
many  generations  of  hard  riding,  hard  living, 
reckless  hot-blooded  Celts.  He  was  too  old  to 
reform  now,  he  would  say.  Perhaps  later  on  he 
would  be  "  making  his  soul  " ;  in  the  meantime 
he  drifted. 

Emile,  Maria  and  the  boiling  water  all  made 
their  entree  together.  The  eyes  of  the  former  trav- 
elled first  of  all  to  the  bed  and  then  to  the  heap 
of  vegetation. 


150  THE  HIPPODROME 

"  Qu  'est-ce  que  c'est  que  caf "  he  demanded. 
"She  is  better,  eh?" 

"  No,  she's  worse,"  answered  Michael.  He 
seized  upon  the  leaves  and  began  to  bundle  them 
into  the  steaming  basin. 

"  We  shouldn't  have  been  gone  so  long.  What's 
this  did  ye  say,  Poleski?  Well,  'tis  the  only  thing 
I  can  do  for  her.  After  I  left  you  I  went  and  got 
these.  They're  great  believers  in  herbs  in  this  coun- 
thry,  and  by  the  light  of  what  I  have  seen,  so  am  I. 
The  poor  people  never  use  anything  else,  and  I've 
seen  some  fine  cures.  It's  unprofessional,  but  it's 
giving  her  a  chance  and  as  I  told  you  I  can't  op- 
erate." He  withdrew  his  fingers  hurriedly. 

"  Faith,  that  jade  with  the  dark  eyes  knew  what 
she  was  doing  when  she  made  this  water  hot! 
They're  ready  now,  and  I'll  want  a  piece  of  stuff  to 
lay  them  on.  Find  me  a  piece  of  the  colleen's 
finery,  something  old  that  she  won't  be  wanting  to 
use  any  more." 

He  pronounced  the  last  two  words  as  "  ANNIE 
MOORE,"  and  would  have  been  furious  if  the  fact 
had  been  pointed  out  to  him,  for  like  all  Irishmen 
he  would  never  admit  the  possession  of  a  brogue. 

A  pale  blue  silk  scarf  was  found,  and  ruthlessly 
utilised  as  a  bandage.  Then  Emile  lifted  the  inert 


THE  HIPPODROME  151 

figure,  while  the  doctor  wound  it  round  her  throat 
and  fastened  it  securely. 

"  Lift  her  higher,  man,"  he  adjured  Emile. 

"There's  only  one  pillow?  —  Then  use  this." 
He  rolled  up  his  coat,  and  put  it  behind  her  head. 

"  We've  done  all  we  can  now,  and  must  just  wait 
till  this  begins  to  draw.  It  will  make  her  uncom- 
fortable, and  we  must  watch  that  she  doesn't  pull 
it  off.  Give  me  a  cigarette  if  ye  have  one,  Poleski. 
Tis  hot  work  this." 

He  sat  down  on  the  bed  and  took  up  Arithelli's 
thin  wrist.  In  his  shirt  sleeves,  with  his  hair  well 
on  end,  and  his  robust  voice  very  little  subdued  be- 
low its  usual  pitch,  Michael  did  not  convey  the 
impression  that  he  was  capable  of  taking  either 
Life  or  Death  in  a  serious  spirit.  He  talked  on 
gaily,  in  no  way  depressed  by  his  unsympathetic 
audience,  telling  tales  of  his  own  escapades  in  the 
matter  of  fighting  and  love-making,  of  wild  mid- 
night steeplechases  ridden  across  unknown  country, 
and  the  delights  of  the  fair  town  by  the  river  Lee. 

Once  he  stopped  talking  for  a  few  minutes  to 
boil  some  more  water  on  the  stove  that  Arithelli 
sometimes  used  for  making  coffee,  and  to  renew  the 
application  of  leaves.  The  fact  that  his  patient  was 
in  exactly  the  same  condition  of  stupor,  and  had  not 


152  THE  HIPPODROME 

stirred,  did  not  discourage  Michael's  optimistic 
views  of  her  recovery. 

"  Ye  must  give  it  time,  me  bhoy,"  he  told  Emile. 
"  There's  no  hurry  in  Spain,  ye  know,  with  any- 
thing. Be  careful  that  ye  watch  her  and  keep  her 
hands  off  her  throat.  She'll  not  be  lying  so  quiet 
presently." 

Emile  growled  out  an  inaudible  response.  He 
was  in  a  smouldering  condition  of  wrath  and  impa- 
tience. Reserved  and  limited  of  words  as  he  him- 
self always  was,  and  now  rendered  savage  by  anxi- 
ety, he  found  it  impossible  to  understand  the  other 
man's  mercurial  temperament.  By  this  time  he 
was  without  hope,  and  certainly  without  faith  in 
either  Michael  or  his  remedies. 

The  doctor  having  skilfully  extracted  his  crum- 
pled outer  garment  from  under  Arithelli's  shoul- 
ders, regretfully  prepared  to  depart.  He  was 
obliged  to  be  somewhere  about  the  premises  of  the 
Hippodrome  during  every  performance  in  case  of 
accident  to  any  of  the  animals,  and  careless  as  he 
was  where  his  own  benefit  was  concerned,  he  had 
sufficient  wisdom  to  be  always  within  call. 

When  he  had  vanished  Emile  walked  to  the  win- 
dow, and  threw  open  the  now  useless  shutters.  He 
guessed  instinctively  that  Arithelli  needed  more  air, 


THE  HIPPODROME  153 

and  he  had  himself  begun  to  find  the  temperature 
almost  unbearable,  for  the  building  was  lofty,  and 
the  room  they  were  in  near  the  roof.  He  rested  his 
folded  arms  upon  the  sill  and  leaned  his  head  and 
shoulders  far  out. 

The  house  stood  at  a  corner,  and  while  the  side  of 
it  was  in  a  small  street,  the  front  overlooked  one 
of  the  many  wide  and  beautiful  paseos,  with  which 
the  city  abounded. 

A  little  breeze  borne  of  the  incoming  tide  in  the 
harbour  came  sweeping  along,  and  its  coolness 
stirred  him  into  fresh  vitality. 

It  was  the  hour  of  pleasure,  when  the  inhabitants 
threw  off  their  sun-begotten  sloth  and  thronged  the 
cafes  and  public  gardens  and  promenades. 

On  the  Rambla,  once  the  bed  of  a  river,  the  mili- 
tary bands  played  waltz  music,  and  the  favourite 
operas,  and  hot  blood  moved  faster  to  the  unfail- 
ing enchantment  of  the  Habernera,  and  the  newest 
works  of  Massenet  and  Charpentier. 

It  was  now  dark,  and  the  stars  blazed  down  upon 
the  never-resting  city,  with  its  sinister  record  of 
outrages  and  crimes,  and  its  charm  which  was  as  the 
alluring  of  some  wild  gypsy  queen. 

Men  fleeing  from  the  justice  or  vengeance  of  their 
own  country  could  find  here  a  City  of  Refuge. 


154  THE  HIPPODROME 

Here  the  tide  of  life  ran  swiftly,  and  churches  and 
cruelty  walked  hand  in  hand,  and  Hate  trod  close 
upon  the  heels  of  Love. 

Here  no  man's  life  was  safe,  for  from  time  to 
time  an  epidemic  of  bomb  throwing  would  break 
out.  Infernal  machines  would  be  hurled  in  an  ap- 
parently purposeless  fashion  wherever  there  was  a 
large  gathering  of  people  in  street  or  square.  A 
few  policemen,  soldiers,  or  onlookers  would  be 
killed  or  mutilated,  and  a  panic  created,  but  few  ar- 
rests were  ever  made.  The  whole  of  the  Press 
would  unite  to  lift  up  its  voice  in  an  indignant  ap- 
peal to  the  Government,  and  then  everything  would 
be  forgotten  till  the  next  explosion.  People  in  Bar- 
celona lived  from  day  to  day  and  accepted  lawless- 
ness as  a  matter  of  course. 

Emile's  own  particular  circle  had  no  hand  in  these 
promiscuous  destructions  of  life.  Their  own  at- 
tempts were  invariably  well  organised  and  directed 
towards  some  definite  end.  They  did  not  destroy 
life  for  mere  wanton  cruelty,  and  their  victims  were 
marked  out  and  hunted  down  with  an  accurate  aim. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  Emile  that  during  the  last 
few  months  he  had  looked  upon  Barcelona  with  a 
changed  vision.  He  had  always  seen  her  beauties 
and  hated  them,  as  a  man  may  hate  the  fair  body  of 


THE  HIPPODROME  155 

a  despised  mistress,  while  he  yet  sees  it  fair.  Now 
the  thought  that  he  might  at  any  time,  and  at  a  few 
days'  notice,  be  forced  to  leave  the  place,  struck  him 
with  a  feeling  of  blankness  and  desolation. 

The  sense  of  exile  was  almost  gone,  the  nostal- 
gia for  his  own  land  no  longer  keen.  Had  he 
turned  traitor  to  his  own  country,  the  country  for 
whose  woes  he  was  now  suffering  —  ? 

There  he  had  neither  home,  parents,  friends  nor 
lover.  Here  he  possessed  at  least  interests. 

A  rustling  sound  behind  him  made  him  turn 
quickly.  In  the  gloom  he  could  only  see  the  outline 
of  a  white  moving  figure.  He  groped  for  the 
matches,  struck  one  and  lit  a  candle. 

Arithelli  sat  upright  in  bed ;  she  had  pushed  back 
the  clothes,  and  her  long  fingers  were  dragging  at 
the  blue  scarf.  It  was  knotted  at  the  back  under 
her  plait  of  hair,  and  she  had  almost  succeeded  in 
loosening  it.  The  fatal  inertia  was  passed,  and  she 
was  beside  herself  with  heat  and  pain  and  the  fight 
for  breath. 

A  couple  of  strides  brought  Emile  to  the  bedside. 
He  caught  her  hands  between  his  own  and  drew 
them  down. 

"  Listen,  Arithelli,"  he  said  quietly.  "  You 
mustn't  do  that.  This  is  to  cure  your  throat.  It 


156  THE  HIPPODROME 

may  hurt  you  now,  but  to-morrow  you  will  be  bet- 
ter, voyez-vous?  " 

The  girl  writhed  in  his  grasp,  turning  her  head 
from  side  to  side.  The  wild  eyes,  the  tense,  quiv- 
ering body,  made  Emile  think  of  some  forest  animal 
in  a  trap. 

The  bandage  had  fallen  from  her  throat  and 
therefore  was  useless,  and  the  aromatic  scent  of 
the  crushed  herbs  was  pungent  in  the  air.  He  re- 
membered Michael's  injunction,  "  See  that  she 
keeps  it  on.  It's  her  only  chance." 

She  was  still  struggling  frantically,  and  he  needed 
both  hands.  For  a  moment  he  meditated  tying  her 
wrists  together,  but  he  decided  to  trust  to  his  in- 
fluence over  her  to  make  her  do  as  he  wished,  she 
had  always  obeyed  him  hitherto,  and  he  knew  that 
she  was  perfectly  conscious  now,  and  capable  of 
understanding  what  he  wanted. 

He  set  his  teeth  and  tightened  his  grip,  and  spoke 
again  in  the  same  quiet  voice. 

"  Look  at  me !  That's  right.  Put  your  hands 
down,  and  keep  them  so.  You  must  not  touch  your 
throat." 

He  held  her  eyes  with  his  own  as  he  spoke,  and 
after  a  momentary  struggle  and  shrinking  she  grew 
quiet,  and  he  felt  her  body  relax.  Her  eyes  closed 


THE  HIPPODROME  157 

and  she  sank  down  against  the  pillow,  turning  her 
face  towards  him. 

" Pauvre  enfant!"  Emile  muttered. 

He  released  her  hands  and  they  lay  still,  and  she 
made  no  movement  to  hinder  him  as  he  re-adjusted 
the  bandage. 

He  stood  looking  down  upon  her.  A  vast  com- 
passion shone  in  the  grey  eyes,  that  she  had  only 
seen  hard  and  penetrating.  The  gesture  of  mute 
abandonment,  the  ready  compliance  had  appealed  to 
his  complex  nature,  which  he  kept  hidden  under  an 
armour  of  coldness  and  cynicism.  For  an  instant 
his  years  of  outlawry  and  poverty  were  blotted  out 
and  he  had  gone  back  to  the  days  in  Russia  when 
he  had  first  come  into  his  kingdom,  and  had  believed 
women  faithful  and  their  honour  a  thing  on  which 
to  stake  one's  own. 

As  sweet  and  yielding  Marie  Roumanoff  had 
seemed  when  she  had  lain  in  his  arms.  A  few 
years  hence  if  Arithelli  did  not  succeed  in  breaking 
her  neck  in  the  ring,  she  would  probably  also  make 
Paradise  and  Hell  for  some  man. 

He  could  see  that  the  dangerous  crisis  was  over. 
She  would  live  and  eventually  go  back  to  her  work 
again.  The  swift  intelligence,  the  wit  and  charm 
of  her-—  A  quoi  bonf  She  had  been  saved,  and 


158  THE  HIPPODROME 

to  what  end  ?  For  a  dangerous  and  toilsome  profes- 
sion, and,  in  secret,  another  and  still  greater  peril. 

Husband  and  children,  and  the  average  woman's 
uneventful,  if  happy,  fate  could  never  be  hers.  Her 
very  beauty  was  of  the  type  almost  repellent  to  the 
strictly  normal  and  healthy  man. 

She  would  no  doubt  have  her  hour  of  triumph,  of 
passion.  Some  connoisseur  of  beauty  would  pur- 
chase her  as  a  rare  jewel  is  bought  to  catalogue 
among  his  treasures. 

In  Paris  she  might  achieve  notoriety.  Not  now, 
perhaps,  but  later  when  she  had  developed  into  a 
woman  and  knew  her  own  power.  Paris  loved  all 
things  strange,  and  gave  homage  to  the  woman  Avho 
was  among  her  fellows  as  the  orchid  among  flowers. 

"  FATALITE,"  he  had  named  her  in  jest.  Truly 
a  name  to  bring  misfortune  to  any  woman.  Her 
fate  had  been  in  his  own  hands  a  few  minutes  ago. 
He  could  so  easily  have  denied  her  her  chance,  her 
chance  of  life.  Perhaps  the  time  might  come  when 
she  would  reproach  him  for  having  helped  her  to 
live. 

He  thrust  back  the  thought  and  stooped  over  her. 

" Mon  enfant,  do  you  want  anything  to  drink? 
You  are  thirsty,  n'est  ce  pas?  " 

"  Yes.  And  Emile  —  you  won't  —  go  away  — 
yet?" 


THE  HIPPODROME  159 

"  Ma  foi,  no !     Drink  this  and  go  to  sleep." 

He  was  the  Emile  of  every-day  life  once  more, 
brusque,  blunt  and  practical.  As  he  turned  away 
to  put  the  glass  back  on  the  table,  he  was  de- 
bating whether  it  would  not  be  wise  to  call  up 
Maria.  A  woman  would  understand  better  what  to 
do  for  another  woman.  He  knew  that  Arithelli 
would  never  ask  for  anything  under  any  circum- 
stances. 

He  had  taught  her  too  well  his  own  depressing 
theory  that  life  "  mostly  consisted  of  putting  up 
with  things,"  and  in  practice  thereof  the  pupil  had 
outshone  her  master. 

The  rigid  tension  of  her  arms  and  hands  as  they 
lay  on  the  coverlet  told  of  her  effort  for  composure, 
and  he  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  beautiful  as 
the  latter  still  were  in  shape  and  colour,  one  of  the 
nails  was  broken,  and  the  finger  tips  had  spread  and 
widened.  When  there  had  been  meetings  up  in  the 
hills  at  night  she  had  always  been  left  to  see  to 
the  unharnessing  of  the  horses  and  mules,  and  these 
disfigurements  were  the  result  of  her  struggles  with 
saddle-girths  and  straps.  Her  work  was  usually 
well  done,  and  if  it  did  not  happen  to  be  satisfac- 
tory, she  came  in  for  the  united  grumbles  of  the 
whole  party. 

Emile  bit  into  his  cigarette  as  his  eyes  caught 


160  THE  HIPPODROME 

the  discoloured  lines  of  Sobrenski's  sign-manual  on 
her  wrist. 

It  was  entirely  through  him,  Emile,  that  she  had 
in  the  first  place  joined  the  league  of  conspirators, 
and  this  was  one  of  the  results.  Sobrenski's  judg- 
ment had  been  more  far-seeing  than  his  own.  One 
girl  in  a  roomful  of  fanatics,  (he  was  one  himself, 
but  that  did  not  make  any  difference,)  would  natu- 
rally stand  a  very  poor  chance  if  she  was  foolish 
enough  to  oppose  them. 

With  masculine  thoughtlessness  Emile  had  set  the 
candle  close  beside  the  bed,  where  it  flared  full  into 
Arithelli's  eyes. 

They  were  wide  open  now.  The  look  of  des- 
peration had  faded,  and  there  was  in  them  only  the 
appeal  of  one  human  being  to  another  for  nelp  and 
sympathy. 

"Eh,  bien,  Fatalite?" 

She  shifted  her  position  wearily  and  stretched 
out  her  hands  towards  him,  murmuring,  "  Je  veux 
dormir." 

If  Emile  had  possessed  either  chloroform  or  any 
other  narcotic  he  would  at  once  have  given  it  to 
her  without  much  thought  of  the  possible  conse- 
quences. An  inspiration  seized  him  to  use  the 
power  for  soothing  and  alleviating  provided  by  Na- 
ture. He  knew  that  Arithelli  would  be  an  easy 


THE  HIPPODROME  161 

subject  for  the  exercise  of  animal  magnetism,  and 
her  morbid  condition  would  make  it  even  easier  for 
him  to  send  her  to  sleep. 

He  moved  away  the  candle,  so  as  to  leave  her 
face  in  shadow,  and  leaning  forward  he  laid  his 
hand  across  her  forehead  and  eyes,  and  began  a 
series  of  regular  and  monotonous  passes,  always  in 
a  downward  direction.  Once  he  rested  his  thumbs 
lightly  on  her  eyeballs,  remaining  so  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, while  his  will  went  out  to  her,  bidding  her 
sleep  and  find  unconsciousness. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

*  There  is  a  woman  at  the  beginning  of  all  great  things." 

LAMARTINE. 

THE  whizzing  rush  and  discordant  scream  of  the 
electric  trams,  the  sun  warm  upon  his  face,  aroused 
Emile  from  a  restless,  fitful  sleep  of  a  few  hours. 
The  street  cries  had  begun  to  swell  into  a  volume 
of  sound,  and  at  the  earliest  dawn  the  whole  place 
teemed  with  stir  and  life.  There  was  no  hour  in 
all  the  night  in  which  Barcelona  really  slept.  Some 
of  the  shops  did  not  close  before  midnight,  and 
people  were  continually  passing  through  the  Rambla, 
and  entering  and  leaving  the  posadas,  which  were 
open  for  the  sale  of  wine  and  bread  soon  after  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

Emile  yawned  and  stretched,  and  pulled  himself 
up  slowly  from  the  chair  by  the  open  window  in 
which  he  had  fallen  asleep.  He  was  cramped  and 
stiff  from  his  uncomfortable  position.  Anxiety  and 
strain  had  deepened  the  lines  on  his  face,  and  his 
eyes  were  dull  and  sunken.  He  looked  less  hard, 

162 


THE  HIPPODROME  163 

less  alert,  and  altogether  more  human  and  approach- 
able. 

A  glance  at  the  bed  assured  him  that  Arithelli 
was  still  asleep  and  in  exactly  the  same  attitude  as 
he  had  left  her.  Though  her  sleep  was  not  a  natu- 
ral one,  at  least  it  was  better  than  drugs,  and  he 
had  given  her  a  respite,  a  time  of  forget  fulness.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  would  have  to  arouse  her  again 
to  more  pain  and  discomfort,  and  the  inevitable 
weariness  of  convalescence.  He  stood  inhaling  the 
wonderful  soft  air  and  gathering  up  his  energies  to 
face  the  work  of  another  day.  Arithelli's  affairs 
had  to  be  put  straight,  and  Vardri  provided  for  in 
some  way.  He  did  not  in  the  least  know  how  this 
was  all  to  be  accomplished,  and  at  present  the  prob- 
lems of  the  immediate  future  seemed  likely  to  prove 
a  little  difficult. 

He  was  not  by  nature  optimistic,  and  the  events 
of  the  last  few  days  had  made  him  even  less  so  than 
ordinary.  He  felt  that  he  must  go  back  to  his 
rooms,  and  finish  out  his  siesta  before  he  could 
work  out  any  more  plans. 

Arithelli  awoke  at  once  when  he  touched  her  and 
called  her  name,  but  before  she  had  realised  where 
she  was  Emile  was  half  way  downstairs  in  search 
of  Maria. 

As  it  happened  it  was  Sunday  morning,  and  being 


164  THE  HIPPODROME 

at  least  outwardly  devout,  the  damsel  was  just  on 
the  point  of  starting  for  an  early  Mass,  and  was 
arrayed  in  her  church -going  uniform  of  black  gown 
and  velo,  and  armed  with  missal  and  rosary. 

Her  round  eyes  widened  and  her  round  mouth 
grew  sulky  when  she  heard  that  she  was  expected  to 
go  upstairs  without  further  delay  and  attend  to  Ari- 
thelli.  Juan  would  be  waiting  for  her  outside  the 
church  door,  Maria  reflected,  and  perhaps  if  she  did 
not  come  he  would  seek  others.  There  was  Do- 
lores, of  the  cigarette  factory,  for  example.  The 
English  Senora  could  surely  wait  a  few  minutes. 
Her  expression,  and  her  obvious  unwillingness,  sup- 
plied Emile  with  material  for  cynical  reflections 
upon  the  working  value  of  religion.  He  did  not 
trouble  to  communicate  his  views  to  Maria,  but 
merely  gave  orders  and  instructions.  His  tone 
and  manner  were  convincing.  Like  all  the  rest 
of  her  sex  Maria  respected  a  man  who  knew 
what  he  wanted,  and  showed  that  he  intended  to 
get  it. 

Emile  made  his  way  into  the  cool,  shady  Rambla, 
where  a  double  avenue  of  plane  trees  met  overhead, 
and  where  a  grateful  darkness  could  always  be 
found  even  at  mid-day.  On  either  side  of  the 
promenade  were  the  finest  shops,  the  gaiest  cafes. 
A  band  of  students  passed  him,  waving  a  scarlet  flag 


THE  HIPPODROME  165 

and  shouting  a  revolutionary  chanson  of  the  most 
fiery  description.  Emile  scowled  angrily.  He  had 
not  the  least  sympathy  with  these  childish  exhibi- 
tions of  defiance,  which  he  considered  utterly  futile 
and  a  great  waste  of  time.  They  did  harm  to  the 
serious  aims  and  intentions  of  the  Anarchist  com- 
munity, and  were  often  the  means  of  getting  quite 
the  wrong  people  arrested. 

At  the  Flower  Market  (La  Rambla  de  las  Flores) 
he  paused  to  look  at  the  heaped  roses,  gorgeous 
against  the  grey  stones.  Daily  they  were  brought 
there  in  thousands,  dew-drenched  and  fresh  from 
the  gardens  of  Saria.  He  took  up  a  loose  handful 
from  the  piled  mass  of  sweetness  and  laid  it  down 
again. 

Red  roses  were  not  for  Fatalite.  They  would 
not  suit  her,  and  she  had  good  reason  to  loathe  the 
colour  that  was  symbolical  of  blood  and  sacrifice. 
He  chose  instead  a  sheaf  of  lilies,  long-stalked  and 
heavily  scented,  and  despatched  them  in  the  care  of 
a  picturesque  gamin.  Sobrenski  and  the  others 
would  certainly  have  considered  him  hopelessly  mad 
if  they  had  known.  It  was  many  years  since  he 
had  sent  flowers  to  a  woman.  His  present  life  did 
not  encourage  little  courtesies  and  graceful  actions. 
It  was  in  the  natural  course  of  events  that  all  the 
comrades  should  help  one  another  in  every  possible 


i66  THE  HIPPODROME 

way,  but  none  of  them  made  any  virtue  out  of  it. 
It  was  all  done  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way  pos- 
sible. As  he  had  told  Arithelli  when  they  had 
talked  up  at  Montserrat,  one  only  kissed  the  hands 
of  a  Marie  Spiridonova.  And  he  was  sending  bou- 
quets as  to  some  mondaine  of  the  vanished  world 
and  of  his  youth. 

He  shrugged  and  walked  slowly  on.  In  passing 
the  house  where  Michael  Furness  lodged,  he  stopped 
to  leave  a  message  as  to  Arithelli's  condition,  and 
the  advisability  of  another  visit. 

When  "  The  Witch  "  touched  at  Corfu  for  letters 
Count  Vladimir  found  among  them  one  that  twisted 
afresh  the  thread  of  two  destinies  —  his  own  and 
that  of  a  woman.  His  companion  had  still  the 
same  features  and  colouring  of  the  boy  who  had 
sung  at  night  under  the  stars  in  the  harbour  of 
Barcelona.  Pauline  Souvaroff  still  sang  through 
the  hours  between  dusk  and  dawn,  but  her  disguise 
had  been  discarded,  and  now  soft  skirts  trailed  as 
she  passed,  and  the  cropped  fair  hair  had  grown  and 
twisted  into  little  rings.  Her  secret  had  been  no 
secret  to  Emile,  though  Arithelli  with  her  trick  of 
taking  everything  for  granted  had  never  guessed 
that  Paul,  the  singer,  was  other  than  the  boy  he 
professed  to  be.  Besides  the  two  women  had  never 
talked  together  alone,  and  seldom  even  seen  each 


THE  HIPPODROME  167 

other  by  daylight,  for  Pauline  had  sought  no  one's 
company. 

There  was  for  her  but  one  being  in  the  world, 
and  when  she  could  not  be  with  the  man  she  wor- 
shipped she  was  content  to  be  with  her  thoughts 
and  dreams. 

At  first  she  had,  like  many  another  Russian 
woman,  yearned  to  make  an  oblation  of  herself  in 
the  service  of  her  horror-ridden  country,  but  with 
the  coming  of  love  she  had  put  aside  all  thoughts 
of  vengeance.  The  Cause  was  identified  for  her 
with  the  person  of  her  lover.  She  toiled  willingly 
at  it  still,  but  from  entirely  different  motives.  His 
interests  were  hers,  and  while  he  worked  for  the 
revolutionary  party,  so  also  must  she. 

Pauline  Souvaroff  had  loved  much  and  given 
freely.  All  that  she  possessed  of  beauty  and  charm, 
her  whole  body  and  soul  she  had  laid  at  the  feet 
of  the  man  at  whose  lightest  word  she  flushed  and 
paled,  and  on  whom  she  looked  with  soft,  adoring 
eyes.  She  lived  in  dreams,  a  life  of  drugged  con- 
tent in  which  there  was  neither  past  nor  future. 

In  all  the  Brotherhood  no  one  could  be  considered 
a  free  agent,  and  the  ordering  of  no  man's  life  was 
in  his  own  hands.  The  private  actions  of  each 
member  were  almost  as  well  known  as  his  public 
ones,  for  each  man  spied  systematically  upon  his 


1 68  THE  HIPPODROME 

companions.  If  the  devotion  of  two  people  to  one 
another  seemed  likely  to  outrival  their  devotion  to 
the  Cause,  then  separation  came  swiftly.  Nothing 
would  be  said,  no  accusations  made,  but  each  would 
receive  orders  that  sent  them  in  opposite  directions. 
The  supporters  of  the  Red  Flag  movement  were 
always  particularly  ingenious  in  arranging  affairs 
to  suit  themselves.  An  Anarchist  could  form  no 
lasting  ties.  Some  time  in  the  future  there  was  al- 
ways separation  to  be  faced. 

It  was  in  Vladimir's  power  to  settle  matters  in 
his  own  way  by  ignoring  Emile's  letter,  and  remain- 
ing where  he  was  in  enjoyment  of  the  present  idyll. 
As  long  as  they  kept  out  to  sea  they  were  safe. 
But  he  had  pledged  his  word  to  answer  any  sum- 
mons and  to  give  his  help,  and  with  him,  as  with 
all  men,  love  came  only  second  to  his  work.  Emile 
had  also  explained  Vardri's  position,  and  it  would 
be  impossible  to  adjust  anything  without  being  on 
the  spot. 

He  read  the  letter  over  again,  slowly  and  care- 
fully. It  hinted  and  suggested  more  than  it  had 
said.  Emile  had  just  come  from  an  interview  with 
Sobrenski,  and  there  had  been  a  talk  of  an  entire 
re-organization  of  the  band.  Some  of  the  mem- 
bers would  be  required  to  carry  on  the  propaganda 


THE  HIPPODROME  169 

in  other  countries,  Russia,  for  example.  They  all 
knew  what  that  meant  — ! 

As  he  climbed  the  ladder  by  the  yacht's  side,  and 
swung  himself  onto  the  deck,  the  girl  ran  up  to  him 
with  outstretched  hands,  her  white  skirts  fluttering 
behind  her  in  the  wind.  She  was  as  incapable  of 
disguising  her  feelings  as  a  child,  and  she  was  a 
joyous  pagan  in  her  happiness. 

Vladimir  slipped  his  hand  under  the  warm  round 
arm.  "  Have  I  been  long,  petite?  Come  and  walk 
up  and  down.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  You  have  found  letters,  mon  ami? "  Pauline 
asked  carelessly. 

"  From  Poleski.  Yes.  I'm  afraid  they  are 
rather  important  ones.  We  shall  have  to  talk  them 
over  later  on." 

"  When  you  like.  Vladimir,  do  you  remember 
the  girl  Monsieur  Poleski  brought  on  board  once 
for  a  few  days.  I  never  knew  her  real  name.  She 
always  looked  so  ill  and  miserable.  Do  you  re- 
member ?  " 

"  It  is  about  this  very  girl  that  he  has  written." 

Pauline  looked  up  quickly.     "  She  is  dead?" 

"  No !  No !  I  suppose  you  think  that  because 
she  always  looked  such  a  tragedy.  However,  she  is 
very  ill,  out  of  danger  now,  but  of  course  not  able 


170  THE  HIPPODROME 

to  ride  —  she  was  in  the  Hippodrome,  you  know  — 
and  apparently  she  has  no  money,  so  one  must  do 
something  for  them.  Poleski  has  barely  enough 
for  two,  especially  under  these  circumstances." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  Pauline  said  gently.  "  I  remem- 
ber how  she  used  to  sit  all  day  and  look  at  the  sea. 
Monsieur  Poleski  left  her  too  much  alone,  and  al- 
ways spoke  so  roughly,  but  I  think  he  loved  her." 

Vladimir  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  You're  wrong  there,  child.  No,  I'm  sure  that's 
not  the  case  with  Poleski." 

"But  she  loves  him?" 

"  Possibly !  She  always  seemed  to  me  uncanny 
with  those  extraordinary  eyes,  and  that  voice. 
Poleski  has  certainly  failed  to  educate  her  as  re- 
gards taste  in  clothes.  You  saw  how  she  was 
dressed  when  she  came  on  board  — !  " 

Half  an  hour  later  the  anchor  was  up,  and  they 
were  cutting  through  the  white-crested  waves.  The 
girl  pointed  to  a  green  headland  on  the  left  that 
rose  suddenly  and  overhung  the  water  like  a  senti- 
nel on  guard. 

"  I  have  been  watching  that  all  the  morning  in 
the  distance,  and  I  could  think  of  nothing  but  the 
Winged  Victory  in  the  Louvre.  You  remember 
how  she  stands  on  a  rough-hewn  pedestal  at  the 
head  of  the  marble  staircase,  and  she  is  all  alone 


THE  HIPPODROME  171 

against  a  dull  red  background.  And  as  one  looks 
one  goes  back  all  those  centuries,  and  sees  her  as 
she  was  on  the  day  the  Greeks  set  her  up  to  cele- 
brate their  great  sea-victory.  It  must  have  all 
looked  just  as  it  does  to-day,  those  centuries  ago  in 
the  Island  of  Samothrace.  There  was  a  strong 
wind  blowing,  and  the  waves  met  and  raced  and 
leapt  together,  and  the  sky  was  the  same  wonder- 
ful colour  that  it  is  now,  and  there  were  wild  birds 
hovering  and  screaming  round  her." 

"  What  will  you  say  to  me,  when  I  take  you 
away  from  all  this, —  when  we  have  to  go  back  to 
Barcelona  ?  " 

"  But  I  shall  go  with  you  ?  "  The  blue  eyes  were 
searching  his  face,  and  there  was  fear  as  well  as 
a  question  in  them. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  shall  leave  you  here  alone, 
child?  "  He  hated  himself  for  the  evasive  answer. 

He  turned  her  thoughts  to  other  things,  bidding 
her  talk  of  those  days  they  had  spent  together  in 
Paris.  She  had  named  it  Paradise,  and  to  her  it 
had  been  indeed  a  place  of  enchantment,  for  she 
saw  it  for  the  first  time,  and  Vladimir  was  always 
with  her. 

She  had  seen  its  treasures  of  art,  and  abandoned 
herself  to  its  glamour  with  the  enthusiasm  and  the 
freshness  of  a  child. 


172  THE  HIPPODROME 

She  had  looked  out  of  place  in  the  artificial  at- 
mosphere of  the  boulevards,  among  the  gas-lit 
cafes,  dazzling  shop-windows,  flaneurs  and  gaily 
dressed  women.  A  man  who  wrote  poetry,  and 
starved  on  what  he  received  for  his  verses  in  the 
Quartier  Latin,  had  stood  beside  her  for  a  few  mo- 
ments in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  and  had  gone  home  to 
his  garret  inspired  to  produce  some  lines  in  which 
he  compared  her  to  the  delicate  narcissus  blooms 
that  died  so  quickly  in  the  flower  sellers'  baskets. 

Together  she  and  Vladimir  had  strolled  among 
the  wonders  of  the  Louvre,  he  critical  and  unmoved, 
but  indulgent  and  gratified  at  her  pleasure  as  at  the 
pleasure  of  a  child. 

Pauline  had  never  been  able  to  express  what  she 
felt.  She  could  only  worship  dumbly  before  the 
changeless  unfading  beauty  of  these  relics  of  the 
fairy-cities,  of  Athens,  and  Rome,  and  Alexandria. 
She  had  loved  the  Greek  marbles  best.  The  weird 
shapes  in  the  Corridor  of  Pan,  the  glorious  torso  of 
the  Venus  Accroupie  with  the  two  deep  lines  in  her 
side  that  make  her  more  human  and  alive  than  any 
other  Venus,  more  divine  even  than  the  Milo,  fault- 
less in  her  "  serpentining  beauty  rounds  on  rounds," 
serene  and  gracious  in  the  shadow  of  her  crimson- 
hung  alcove. 

And  Vladimir  was  wise,  for  he  allowed  her  to 


THE  HIPPODROME  173 

dream,  and  did  not  show  her  more  than  he  could 
help  of  modern  Paris. 

From  there  they  had  gone  to  Brussels,  then  to 
Vienna,  and  last,  and  most  beautiful  of  all,  Buda- 
Pesth,  the  city  among  the  hills.  They  had  seen  it 
first  of  all  as  Buda-Pesth  should  be  seen,  at  night, 
hanging  between  earth  and  sky,  and  with  her  mil- 
lion lights  sparkling  against  the  soft  darkness  of 
the  surrounding  hills.  Pauline's  eyes  had  never 
become  satiated  with  the  sight  of  beautiful  things. 

Perhaps,  as  she  had  told  Vladimir,  it  was  her  love 
for  him  that  had  given  her  this  gift  of  clear-see- 
ing. Without  love  she  might  have  allowed  herself 
to  be  blindfolded  as  many  other  women  are,  by  am- 
bition, or  money,  or  intellect. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"  La  vie  est  vaine, 
Un  peu  d'amour, 
Un  peu  de  haine, 
Et  puis  bon  jour." 

IN  the  process  of  Arithelli's  convalescence,  corned 
fought  for  place  with  tragedy. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  felt  irritable, 
and  inclined  to  grumble,  and  her  racked  nerves 
made  the  lonely  hours  appear  doubly  long  and 
lonely. 

Day  after  day,  each  one  seemingly  more  unend- 
ing than  the  last,  the  sun  poured  into  her  room,  and 
the  dust  and  litter  accumulated  in  all  four  corners, 
and  she  lay  and  gazed  at  the  hideous  meandering 
pattern  of  the  stained  wall-paper,  and  the  cracks 
and  blistering  paint  on  the  door.  The  nights  were 
less  terrible,  for  the  darkness  veiled  all  sordid  de- 
tails, and  there  was  a  star-lit  patch  of  sky  visible 
through  the  open  window. 

The  attendance  she  received  could  only  be  de- 
scribed as  casual.  Neither  Emile  nor  Maria  pos- 
sessed one  idea  on  the  subject  of  hygiene  between 

174 


THE  HIPPODROME  175 

them.  The  methods  of  the  former  were,  as  might 
be  expected,  a  little  crude,  and  Maria  combined  a 
similar  failing  with  a  vast  ignorance.  Moreover, 
she  was  not  original.  At  the  beginning  of  Arithel- 
li's  illness  pineapple  juice  had  seemed  to  Maria  a 
happy  inspiration,  and  she  continued  to  provide  it 
daily.  What  was  good  to  drink  on  Sunday,  she 
argued,  must  also  be  good  on  Monday. 

Arithelli's  throat  had  healed  quickly,  but  the  de- 
pression and  weakness  clung  to  her  persistently. 
She  fought  it  and  was  ashamed  of  it,  true  to  her 
Spartan  traditions,  but  was  forced  to  realise  that 
it  was  not  in  her  own  power  to  hurry  her  return 
to  the  world  and  work. 

Michael  Furness,  who  was  much  elated  by  the 
success  of  the  Jewish  herbalist's  remedy,  continued 
his  treatment  on  the  same  lines,  giving  her  vari- 
ous tisanes  of  leaves  and  flowers,  which  if  they 
tasted  unpleasant  were  at  least  harmless.  He  had 
grown  fond  of  his  patient,  and  she  always  looked 
for  his  visits  with  pleasure.  He  treated  her  with 
a  genuine,  almost  fatherly  kindness,  and  they  were 
drawn  together  by  the  kin  feeling  of  race,  so 
strong  among  all  Celts.  In  many  respects  Michael 
was  not  ideal  as  a  medical  attendant. 

He  smoked  vile  tobacco, —  he  dropped  some 
things  and  knocked  over  others,  he  shaved  appar- 


176  THE  HIPPODROME 

ently  only  on  festas,  and  if  he  happened  to  arrive 
late  in  the  day  his  speech  was  thick  and  his  man- 
ner excitable. 

Upon  one  occasion  Arithelli  had  complained  that 
her  mane  of  untended  hair  made  her  uncomfort- 
ably hot,  and  Michael  brought  out  a  pocket  knife, 
clubbed  it  all  together  in  his  hand  like  a  horse's  tail, 
and  obligingly  offered  to  relieve  her  by  cutting  it 
off.  Emile  had  arrived  only  just  in  time  to  prevent 
the  holocaust,  and  the  two  men  exchanged  fiery 
words  for  the  next  ten  minutes. 

Another  day,  prompted  by  a  desire  to  amuse  her, 
Michael  introduced  into  her  room  a  fat  mongrel 
puppy  with  disproportionate  legs  and  an  alarmed 
expression.  His  wish  to  provide  her  with  what  he 
was  pleased  to  call  a  "  divarsion  "  was,  like  many  of 
his  other  good  intentions,  not  entirely  successful. 
He  had  deposited  the  excited  animal  on  the  bed,  and 
in  the  course  of  its  frantic  gambols  it  overbalanced 
and  fell  sprawling  to  the  floor  on  its  back.  The  an- 
cient canopied  bed  was  high,  and  the  puppy  was 
frightened  as  well  as  hurt,  and  lifted  up  its  voice 
in  anguished  yells.  When  Michael  had  rescued  it, 
and  put  it  outside  the  door  and  finished  laughing, 
he  came  back  to  find  Arithelli  weeping  helplessly 
with  her  face  buried  in  the  pillow.  His  alarmed 
suggestion  that  he  should  fetch  Emile  helped  her 


THE  HIPPODROME  177 

to  recover  more  quickly  than  any  amount  of  sym- 
pathy could  have  done. 

Sometimes  there  were  other  visitors.  The 
grooms  and  strappers  from  the  Hippodrome  came 
often  to  enquire,  and  Estelle,  forbidden  by  the  Man- 
ager to  come  at  all  on  account  of  infection,  sat 
on  the  stairs  and  showered  effusive  speeches  in  a 
high-pitched  voice  through  the  open  door. 

Arithelli  had  sent  no  word  of  her  illness  to  her 
parents  in  London.  She  knew  their  views  on  the 
subject  of  complaints.  They  would  consider  the 
whole  thing  due  to  imagination,  there  would  be 
unpleasant  letters,  and  it  was  perfectly  certain  that 
they  would  send  no  assistance  in  the  shape  of 
money.  Emile  had  wished  to  write,  but  she  had 
begged  him  not  to  do  so,  and  for  once  he  had  yielded 
to  what  he  called  her  "  whims." 

From  the  scraps  of  information  she  had  received 
from  time  to  time  it  appeared  that  the  uncomfort- 
able menage  of  her  kindred  had  become  even  more 
disorganised.  Her  father  had  turned  for  consola- 
tion to  the  whisky  of  his  country,  her  mother  spent 
whole  days  in  bed  reading,  and  weaving  futile 
dreams  of  a  recovered  fortune,  and  Isobel  and  Val- 
erie grew  taller  and  hungrier,  and  fought  and 
wrangled  after  the  manner  of  Hooligans.  Lazy 
and  shiftless,  they  envied  Arithelli  the  life  she  had 


178  THE  HIPPODROME 

chosen,  but  had  neither  the  pluck  nor  the  brains 
necessary  to  emulate  her  example. 

Emile's  manner  had  troubled  her  of  late,  for  he 
had  been  strangely  bad-tempered  and  variable  in 
his  moods.  She  had  become  more  or  less  accus- 
tomed to  his  eccentricities  of  behaviour  and  speech, 
but  this  was  something  different,  indefinable.  One 
day  he  would  be  extraordinarily  kind  and  consider- 
ate, the  next  almost  brutal,  either  hardly  speaking 
at  all,  or  else  finding  fault  with  everything  she  said 
and  did. 

She  often  felt  a  presentiment  that  he  had  some- 
thing important  to  tell  her,  but  he  would  come  and 
go  without  imparting  any  news,  and,  as  always, 
she  did  not  worry  him  with  questions  as  many  wo- 
men would  have  done. 

She  wondered  if  he  were  feeling  harassed  over 
"  les  affaires  politiques,"  or  whether  he  was  afraid 
that  the  Manager's  small  stock  of  patience  would 
be  exhausted  before  she  was  able  to  appear  in  the 
ring  again,  and  that  he  would  cancel  her  contract. 
If  that  happened  she  felt  that  the  end  of  all  things 
would  have  indeed  arrived.  She  could  not  strug- 
gle against  the  Fates  any  longer,  obviously  she 
could  not  return  home,  and  it  was  not  fair  that 
Emile  should  continue  to  keep  her. 

He  came  in  one  evening  about  eight  o'clock  to 


THE  HIPPODROME  179 

find  her  up  for  the  first  time  since  her  illness,  and 
sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  draped  in  the  long 
blue  cloak  she  used  for  covering  her  circus  attire. 

Her  hair  was  parted  over  her  ears,  and  divided 
into  two  long  sleek  braids  drawn  forward  and  fall- 
ing over  her  shoulders,  the  ends  resting  on  her 
lap. 

She  looked  up,  as  he  entered,  with  the  haunting 
sea-green  eyes  that  showed  larger  than  ever  in  con- 
trast to  her  hollowed  cheeks.  Something  in  her 
pose,  in  the  arrangement  of  her  hair,  reminded  Emile 
vividly  of  her  first  morning  in  Barcelona,  when  he 
had  come  in  early  in  the  morning  to  find  her  dazed 
with  sleep.  He  remembered  also  how  she  had 
asked  him  to  repeat  his  remarks,  and  how  care- 
lessly nonchalant  had  been  her  manner. 

"  You  look  like  a  witch  sitting  crouched  up  there, 
Fatalite,"  he  snapped.  "  What's  the  matter?  You 
don't  seem  very  cheerful." 

"  I  don't  feel  very  cheerful,"  the  girl  responded. 
She  spoke  with  grave  deliberation,  and  without 
moving  a  muscle.  Emile  grunted  and  sat  down. 

"  There  has  been  another  explosion  of  bombs  on 
the  Rambla,"  he  said.  "A  market  woman  killed 
and  two  work  people  injured  —  I  believe  one  has 
since  died.  Of  course  a  got-up  affair  of  the  Gov- 
ernment. They  hope  by  doing  this  sort  of  thing 


i8o  THE  HIPPODROME 

often  enough  to  make  the  populace  take  vengeance 
on  us." 

"  Then  the  Anarchists  didn't  do  it?  " 

"  My  dear  Fatalite,  we  don't  blow  up  harmless 
people  simply  pour  passer  le  temps.  I've  told  you 
that  before,  and  being  inside  the  movement  your- 
self you  ought  to  know.  It  is  a  favourite  trick  of 
the  officials  to  excite  public  feeling  against  us. 
They  have  been  doing  it  now  for  the  last  three 
years,  letting  off  bombs  in  various  parts  of  the  city. 
They  take  care  always  to  choose  the  most  fre- 
quented places  and  to  kill  someone  who  doesn't 
matter,  and  then  all  the  Republican  journals  have 
four  columns  of  indignation  with  large  head-lines, 
'LATEST  ANARCHIST  OUTRAGE.'  They 
like  to  get  their  exploits  well  talked  about.  Every- 
thing seems  to  be  against  us  now.  Sobrenski  will 
have  it  that  there  is  treachery  inside  our  circle  as 
well  as  outside.  You  know  whom  he  suspects  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Vardri." 

"  That  is  my  fault,"  Arithelli  said  quietly.  "  So- 
brenski has  felt  like  that  since  the  night  Vardri 
made  a  scene  about  my  being  lowered  down  from 
the  window.  He  just  stood  up  for  me  because  I'm 
a  woman.  I'm  only  a  machine  to  the  rest  of 
you." 


THE  HIPPODROME  181 

She  spoke  without  a  touch  of  resentment.  It 
was  purely  a  statement  of  fact. 

"  Ah,  that's  just  the  point.  The  feminine  side 
of  you  is  exactly  what  we  don't  want.  One  Felise 
Rivaz  is  enough,  most  of  us  think.  Try  and  keep 
the  elfish  boy  you  were  when  you  arrived.  It  will 
be  less  trouble,  Fatalite,  ma  chere.  With  the  other 
thing  there  are  always  complications.  No,  I'm  not 
accusing  you  of  falling  in  love  with  Vardri.  I 
only  say,  be  careful.  Even  an  elf-child  can  develop 
suddenly  into  a  woman  once  she  arrives  at  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  fact  that  there  is  a  man  ready  to  make 
love  to  her.  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  it  yourself, 
but  you  have  changed  lately.  You  are  losing  your 
fearlessness,  your  indifference.  I  have  watched 
you  sometimes  when  you  have  not  known,  and  have 
seen  your  eyes  soften,  your  face  change.  You 
started  when  I  spoke  just  now." 

"  How  did  you  learn  things  about  women  ? 
From  books  ?  " 

"  Books  ?  Ma  foit  no !  I  liked  them  well 
enough  at  one  time,  when  I  hadn't  studied  la  vie. 
Now  they're  fade" 

Arithelli  was  silent  for  a  little  while.  She  knew 
only  too  well  that  Emile  had  spoken  the  truth,  had 
put  into  blunt  words  what  to  herself  was  only  a 
vague,  half-formed  idea.  Her  illness  had  been  Var- 


182  THE  HIPPODROME 

dri's  golden  harvest  time,  for  it  had  given  him  the 
chance  of  being  often  alone  with  her.  He  had 
read  to  her,  waited  upon  her,  served  her  with  the 
utmost  chivalry  and  devotion.  He  had  made  of 
her  a  Madonna,  a  goddess,  she  who  was  fair  game 
for  all  other  men  in  Barcelona. 

Emile's  voice  broke  in  upon  her  meditations. 

"  You  shouldn't  worry,  Fatalite.  It's  not  be- 
coming. Have  a  cigarette  to  make  yourself  a  little 
distraction." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  thank  you,  Emile.  I  never  wanted  to 
smoke,  and  any  way  it  would  not  give  me  a  distrac- 
tion to-night." 

'  Then  what  are  you  worrying  about  ?  " 

"  I've  only  been  wondering  what  will  be  trie  end 
of  me." 

"  What  has  made  you  suddenly  become  so  anx- 
ious about  your  end  ?  "  Emile  looked  at  her  keenly. 

The  wide  eyes  raised  to  his  were  tragedy  incar- 
nate. The  long  nervous  ringers  were  tightly  locked 
together. 

"  I'm  a  coward  to-night,"  the  soft  hoarse  voice 
went  on.  "  I've  never  grumbled  before,  have  I, 
Emile?  I  seem  to  have  suddenly  realised  how 
hopeless  everything  looks  for  me  in  the  future. 
I've  had  time  enough  to  think  it  all  out  since  I've 


THE  HIPPODROME  183 

been  lying  in  bed.  When  I  first  came  here  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  do  all  sorts  of  wonderful 
things,  but  now  I  see  that  this,  life  leads  to  nothing, 
and  I  may  go  on  being  just  a  circus  rider  for  years. 
When  I  get  well  and  finish  out  this  contract  I  shall 
have  to  try  and  get  another  engagement  in  Paris 
or  Vienna.  The  English  Consul  and  all  the  other 
men  wait  to  see  me  come  out,  and  throw  me  flowers 
and  rings,  but  when  they  see  me  driving  with  you 
in  the  Paseo  de  Gracia,  they  look  the  other  way, 
especially  if  they  are  with  their  wives  and  families. 
They  like  '  ARITHELLI  OF  THE  HIPPODROME  '  in  her 
proper  place, —  the  ring.  Gas  and  glare,  paint  and 
glitter!  That  is  my  life.  And  they  always  hope 
that  I  shall  fall  off.  I  can  feel  it.  It's  the  Roman 
arena  all  over  again.  For  a  long  time  before  I 
had  that  accident  I  didn't  know  how  to  get  through 
the  rehearsals.  I  nearly  fell  off  two  or  three  times, 
but  there  was  no  one  there  to  see.  The  more  I 
practised  the  more  cold  I  got,  and  I  used  to  have 
horrible  shivering  fits.  It's  so  queer.  I  don't  be- 
lieve I'm  made  like  other  people.  Estelle  gets  hot 
and  scarlet  when  she  practises." 

"Poor  little  child!" 

"  Why  are  you  so  nice  to  me  ?  You've  never 
said  anything  like  that  before." 

"  Because  if  when  you  first  came  here  I  had  be- 


184  THE  HIPPODROME 

gun  to  pity  you  it  would  have  made  you  realise 
your  position  sooner  than  need  be.  You  were  like 
one  in  a  dream.  It  was  not  my  place  to  awaken 
you.  I  left  that  for  Life,  'la  vie'  that  you  were 
so  anxious  to  experience.  You  made  yourself 
'  Chateaux  en  Espagne'  We  all  do  that  at  some 
time  or  other." 

"  Nobody  really  cares  what  becomes  of  me  ex- 
cept— "  she  broke  off  the  sentence  and  continued 
steadily.  "  My  people  don't  mind  whether  I  am 
here  or  not.  They  won't  like  it  if  I  come  back  a 
failure." 

In  his  heart  Emile  cursed  the  Fates.  Her  awak- 
ening had  been  a  complete  one.  At  first  novelty 
and  excitement  had  served  as  merciful  anaesthetics, 
but  they  could  not  last  for  ever. 

He  was  not  in  love  with  her,  he  still  told  him- 
self, but  he  would  miss  her.  Women  like  the  Rou- 
manoff  were  the  women  to  whom  men  made  passion- 
ate love,  but  Arithelli  was  unique.  She  had  become 
part  of  his  life  in  Barcelona.  Their  lives  had 
touched  and  mingled  till  it  was  impossible  to  be- 
lieve that  he  had  only  known  her  for  a  few  short 
months.  A  future  without  her  would  be  one  with- 
out interest.  For  her  he  could  see  no  future.  She 
would  have  to  go  to  the  devil  some  way  or  another 


THE  HIPPODROME  185 

eventually,  and  there  would  be  plenty  of  people 
ready  and  willing  to  provide  her  with  an  escort. 

He  threw  away  his  cigarette,  and  came  across  the 
room  to  her,  and  his  hands  fell  heavily  upon  her 
shoulders. 

"  Look  here,  Fatalite,"  he  said  roughly ;  "  we 
thought  you  were  dying  a  little  while  ago,  and  I 
helped  to  fight  for  your  life,  and  all  the  time,  at 
the  back  of  my  brain  I  wished  you  were  dead. 
Yes,  you  needn't  look  so  horrified."  He  gave  her 
a  fierce  shake.  "  I  hoped  to  see  you  in  your  coffin. 
Can't  you  understand,  Fatalite?  No,  of  course 
you  can't,  and  you  think  me  a  brute.  One  of  these 
days  perhaps  you  will  think  differently.  Probably 
you  imagine  I  don't  care  for  you,  but  if  I  didn't 
should  I  mind  whether  you  were  alive  or  dead? 
You've  always  been  saying  that  you  feel  something 
is  going  to  happen.  It  seems  you  are  right. 
There  have  been  several  unexpected  developments 
during  the  last  few  days.  It  is  most  likely  that 
I  may  be  chosen  to  go  back  to  Russia  with  de- 
spatches to  one  of  the  secret  societies  there.  Here 
I  cannot  be  arrested,  there  I  can.  Of  course  it 
means  Siberia  —  eventually.  That's  only  what  we 
all  expect." 

"  Then  I  shall  be  here  alone." 


186  THE  HIPPODROME 

"Yes,  and  there's  no  future  for  a  woman 
in  this  vile  place.  You  know  the  proverb  they 
have, '  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Barcelona  ? ' 
Your  looks  are  against  you  too." 

"There's  always  the  river." 

"Then  when  the  time  conies  choose  that  —  if 
you  still  have  the  courage.  You've  been  bonne 
camarade  to  me,  Fatalite.  The  men  you  will  meet 
later  on  may  not  want  that." 


CHAPTER  XV 

"  I  kiss  you  and  the  world  begins  to  fade." 

W.  B.  YEATS. 

COUNT  VLADIMIR  and  Emile  met  and  consulted  to- 
gether, the  immediate  result  of  the  interview  being 
that  Vardri  was  offered  the  post  of  private  secretary 
to  the  former.  Emile  had  gone  out  leaving  them 
together,  and  Vladimir  had  hardly  finished  speak- 
ing when  he  found  himself  faced  by  an  unexpected 
situation. 

"  I  accept  with  pleasure,"  Vardri  said,  "  but  on 
one  condition  —  that  it  means  my  remaining  in 
Barcelona." 

Vladimir  hesitated.  "  Well,  I  had  not  contem- 
plated that.  Naturally  one  requires  one's  secre- 
tary to  be  — " 

"  I  understand,  Monsieur.  I  hope  you  will  not 
consider  me  ungrateful,  but  there  is  a  reason." 

"It's  a  woman?" 

Vardri  bowed  gravely.  "  Exactly,  Monsieur. 
It's  a  woman." 

"  You  are  risking  a  great  deal  for  her.  Poleski 
has  told  me  something  of  your  circumstances,  and 

187 


188  THE  HIPPODROME 

it  appears  that  if  you  do  not  get  some  appointment 
very  soon,  you  will  starve." 

Vardri  straightened  himself,  throwing  back  his 
head  with  a  characteristic  gesture.  He  looked  the 
older  man  in  the  eyes,  his  own  alight  and  eloquent 
under  finely  drawn  brows. 

"  That's  as  it  may  be !  I'll  take  my  chance  of 
work.  In  any  case  I  cannot  leave  Barcelona.  Of 
course,  I  regret  greatly  that  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  fall  in  with  your  arrangements." 

Vladimir  smiled  and  shrugged.  He  knew  the 
type  with  which  he  had  to  deal.  Quixotic  and  gen- 
erous to  the  verge  of  folly,  the  type  that  will  sacri- 
fice itself  without  reserve  for  an  illusion,  an  ideal ; 
the  type  that  filled  monasteries,  and  Siberian  prisons, 
and  made  a  jest  for  half  the  world.  Such  men 
were  valuable  to  the  Cause,  because  they  gave 
ungrudgingly,  and  never  counted  cost.  The  Rus- 
sian was  a  man  of  affairs,  cautious,  cynical  and 
given  to  analysis,  and  he  was  also  a  student  of  hu- 
man nature.  He  was  moreover  interested  in  the 
unknown  woman. 

If  he  had  been  told  that  she  was  Arithelli  the 
circus-rider,  who  had  sat  silently  upon  the  deck  of 
his  yacht  dressed  in  gaudy  raiment,  and  indifferent 
almost  to  stupidity,  then  his  smile  would  have  been 
contemptuous  instead  of  tolerant.  He  was  inter- 


THE  HIPPODROME  189 

ested  too  in  the  unknown  woman's  champion. 
Something  in  Vardri's  attitude  of  courteous  defi- 
ance appealed  to  him  by  the  law  that  will  attract 
strongly  one  man's  mind  to  another,  diverse  in 
every  way.  He  could  see  that  Vardri  was  plainly 
consumptive,  and  that  the  disease  was  in  its  ad- 
vanced stages.  Even  with  the  aid  of  good  food 
and  an  easier  life  he  could  not  last  more  than  a 
year  or  two,  so  one  might  as  well  make  things  a 
little  more  smooth  for  him  during  the  time. 

"  I  see  you  have  the  illusions  of  youth,  my 
friend,"  he  said  carelessly.  "  I  trust  they  may  re- 
main long  unbroken.  Myself  I  am  sorry  to  have 
lived  beyond  the  age  when  they  content  one.  Sit 
down  and  talk  to  me."  He  Motioned  Vardri  to- 
wards a  chair.  "  Well,  since  you  have  refused  to 
entertain  my  plan,  we  must  think  of  something  else. 
I'm  at  present  writing  a  series  of  articles  on  'Mil- 
itarism in  France/  and  should  like  to  have  them 
translated  for  publication  in  an  English  journal. 
You  speak  the  language  well,  better  even  than  Po- 
leski,  for  you  have  a  better  accent.  I  have  been  a 
good  deal  in  London  and  I  notice  the  difference.  I 
suppose  you  also  write  it  easily  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  had  an  English  tutor." 

"  Good !  Then  you  will  undertake  this  work,  and 
you  shall  fix  the  price  of  payment.  I'm  not  in 


190  THE  HIPPODROME 

the  least  afraid  of  your  asking  more  than  I  care 
to  give.  You  are  the  type  that  gets  rid  of  money, 
not  the  type  that  acquires  it.  Also  I  will  give  you 
an  introduction  which  will  enable  you  to  get  on  the 
staff  of  Le  Combat.  They  want  another  man 
there  who  is  a  good  linguist,  as  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  correspondence  with  other  countries.  As  I  have 
an  interest  in  the  paper,  you  may  consider  it 
settled.  No,  don't  thank  me.  Your  thanks  are 
due  to  —  a  woman.  She  is  unknown  to  me,  but 
perhaps  that  is  the  reason  I  —  I  also  owe  you  some- 
thing, Monsieur  Vardri.  Your  example  has  made 
me  feel  young  again." 

A  week  later  Vardri  went  swinging  quickly  down 
the  Calle  San  Antonio,  on  his  way  to  Emile's  rooms. 
He  was  in  exuberant  spirits,  and  whistled  as  he 
walked  keeping  step  to  the  dancing  gaiety  of  '  La 
petite  Tonquinoise.'  His  headgear,  which  vied  in 
picturesque  disorder  with  Emile's  historical  som- 
brero, was  pushed  to  the  back  of  his  head,  exposing 
his  thick,  unruly  hair,  and  over  one  ear,  Spanish 
fashion,  he  had  stuck  a  carnation. 

There  was  more  money  in  his  pocket  than  he  had 
possessed  since  his  days  of  luxury  in  the  Austrian 
chateau,  and  for  him  the  sun  was  shining  in  a  met- 
aphorical as  well  as  a  literal  sense.  During  the 
last  few  days  he  had  been  happier  than  he  could 


THE  HIPPODROME  191 

have  believed  possible.  He  felt  in  better  health, 
for  he  had  been  able  to  go  to  bed  at  a  reasonable 
time,  and  though  he  missed  the  horses  and  the  free 
life  of  the  Hippodrome,  and  found  the  work  of  a 
newspaper  office  somewhat  trying,  there  were 
shorter  hours  and  other  advantages. 

He  had  also  the  joy  of  knowing  that  Arithelli 
was  almost  well  again.  She  had  not  been  out  yet, 
but  Michael  Furness  had  declared  her  to  be  prac- 
tically recovered. 

One  day  Vardri  hoped  to  take  her  along  the  sea- 
front  towards  the  old  quarter  of  the  town,  where 
the  fishermen  and  sailors  lived,  and  where  she 
could  sit  on  the  stone  parapet  and  look  across  the 
harbour,  and  let  the  sea-air  blow  strength  and  vital- 
ity into  her. 

After  all  he  told  himself,  life  was  good  even  if 
one  were  a  vagabond.  Life  with  adventure,  a  lit- 
tle money,  and  love. 

He  burst  open  the  door  of  Emile's  sitting-room, 
and  entered  headlong.  The  sun-blinds  were  all 
drawn,  making  everything  appear  pitch  dark  after 
the  blinding  glare  of  the  streets. 

"  I  want  some  matches,  Poleski !  By  luck,  I've 
got  some  cigarettes.  One  never  has  both  matches 
and  cigarettes  at  the  same  time."  He  had  come  to 
a  dead  stop  and  stood  staring. 


192  THE  HIPPODROME 

"Fatalite!  Fatalite!  The  gods  are  kind  for 
once!  If  only  I  had  known  you  were  here  sooner." 

The  half-full  box  of  cigarettes  descended  to  the 
floor,  and  its  contents  went  in  all  directions,  and  he 
was  kneeling  beside  her  chair  and  holding  both  her 
hands.  It  was  Arithelli  not  "  Fatalite  "  who  smiled 
back  at  him.  The  little  mask-like  face  changed  and 
grew  soft  till  she  looked  more  a  girl,  less  an  em- 
bodied tragedy.  Vardri's  wild  spirits  were  infec- 
tious, and,  as  on  the  night  of  the  Hippodrome  fiasco, 
Youth  called  and  Love  made  answer. 

"  Mon  ami,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come." 

"  Is  this  the  first  time  you  have  been  out  ?  Who 
said  you  could  get  up?  The  doctor?" 

"  No,  it  was  Emile." 

Vardri  nodded  towards  the  communicating  door 
of  the  bedroom.  "  Poleski  is  here  then?" 

"  No,  and  he  doesn't  know  I'm  here.  He  has 
gone  to  Saria  and  will  not  be  back  till  late.  I  was 
horribly  irritable  this  morning,  so  he  thinks  I'm  all 
right  now."  A  ripple  of  amusement  broke  her 
voice  as  their  eyes  met. 

"  My  sweet,  you  must  ask  me  to  believe  some 
other  little  histoire" 

"  Oh !  but  it's  true.  You  should  have  heard  us ! 
I  knew  that  it  was  funny  afterwards,  but  there  was 
no  one  to  laugh  with  at  the  time.  It  was  about 


THE  HIPPODROME  193 

that  dreadful  old  coat  of  Emile's.  He  threw  it  on 
my  bed,  and  —  I  can't  help  being  a  Jewess,  can  I  ? 
and  I  so  loathe  dust  and  dirt,  and  I  said  so.  Emile 
was  furious.  '  Very  well,'  he  said.  *  If  you  are 
strong  enough  to  grumble,  you  are  strong  enough  to 
get  up.'  So  when  he  had  gone  I  dressed  and  came 
here.  I  was  so  glad  to  get  away  from  that  room." 

"  Not  as  glad  as  I  am  to  see  you  here.  And  I've 
heard  you  laugh,  Fatalite.  You're  a  little  girl  to- 
day." 

"  I  have  moods,  dear.  I  shall  depress  you  some- 
times." 

Vardri  smiled  scornfully,  and  slid  down  to  the 
floor,  his  head  resting  against  her  knee.  "  Je  suis 
bien  content!  What  cool  hands  you  have,  and  how 
still  you  keep.  No  other  woman  in  the  world  was 
ever  so  restful.  You  love  to  be  quiet,  don't  you? 
I  know  you  better  to-day  than  I  ever  did.  You 
were  always  in  the  wrong  atmosphere  at  the  Hip- 
podrome." 

"  And  I  have  to  go  back  to  it,"  the  girl  said  un- 
der her  breath.  "  And  I  may  be  hissed  again.  You 
will  not  be  there  now,  and  we  shall  miss  you.  I 
and  Don  Juan  and  Cavaliero,  and  El  Rey,  and  Don 
Quixote.  Some  of  the  grooms  are  horrible,  and 
the  animals  get  so  badly  treated." 

"  It   seems  to   me   that   everything   gets   badly 


194  THE  HIPPODROME 

treated  here,"  Vardri  muttered.  "  Women  and 
horses,  it's  all  the  same.  Don't  let  us  talk  about 
it.  It  drives  me  mad  to  think,  I  shan't  be  able  to 
be  near  you.  I  was  some  use  to  you  there." 

He  jumped  up  and  began  to  move  about  the 
room  collecting  the  scattered  cigarettes. 

"  Shall  I  play  to  you,  mon  ange?  I  suppose  the 
piano  hasn't  been  tuned  yet."  He  struck  a  few 
notes,  and  made  a  rueful  grimace.  "  It's  worse 
than  ever." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  never  will  be  tuned  now  that  I've 
been  ill  and  caused  so  much  expense.  Emile  al- 
ways says  he  will  go  without  cigarettes  to  afford  it, 
and  I  say  I  will  go  without  powder,  but  neither  of 
us  keep  our  heroic  resolutions,  and  the  piano  gets 
worse  and  worse." 

Vardri  shut  down  the  lid  with  a  bang. 

"  Well,  anyway  it  doesn't  matter,"  he  said,  "  I 
don't  want  to  play  or  do  anything;  I  just  want  to 
be  with  you." 

"  Bring  up  a  chair,  and  sit  and  smoke,  mon  cam- 
arade"  She  held  out  her  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
invitation,  and  Vardri  took  it  and  kissed  it,  and 
went  back  to  his  former  position  at  her  feet. 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Ah !  I'd  for- 
gotten there  was  something  I  wanted  to  tell  you. 
I  found  a  poem  the  other  day,  a  love-song  of 


THE  HIPPODROME  195 

De  Musset.  Do  you  know  that  you  lived  in  this 
very  city  years  ago,  Fatalite,  and  he  saw  you  and 
loved  you?  How  else  could  he  have  written  this? 

"  Aves-vous  vu  en  Barcelone, 
Une  Andalouse  au  sein  bruni, 
Pale  contme  un  beau  soir  d'Automne, 
C'est  ma  maitresse,  ma  lionne, 
La  Marchesa  d'Amagui." 

Arithelli  listened,  her  eyes  dilating,  and  a  little 
flame  of  colour  creeping  up  under  the  magnolia  skin 
that  made  her  likeness  to  the  woman  of  the  poem. 
Her  awakening  senses  thrilled  to  the  eager  voice, 
the  riotous  challenging  words : 

"  J'ai  fait  bien  de  chansons  pour  die" 

He  broke  off  abruptly  and  continued :  "  I  hate 
all  the  rest  of  it  The  woman  isn't  like  you,  fur- 
ther on,  and  the  lover  laughs  at  his  own  passion, 
and  the  whole  thing  jars.  That  first  verse  haunted 
me  for  days  after  I'd  read  it." — The  sentence  was 
finished  by  a  convulsive  fit  of  coughing,  which  he 
vainly  tried  to  stifle. 

"  This  is  the  first  time  to-day,"  he  gasped,  be- 
tween the  paroxysms.  "  I'm  quite  well  really. 
It's  the  cigarette.  They  often  have  that  effect. 
Don't  look  so  worried,  or  I  shall  think  you  hate 
me  for  being  a  nuisance." 

"If  you  talk  so  foolishly  I  shall  go." 


196  THE  HIPPODROME 

She  made  an  attempt  to  rise,  but  Vardri  caught  at 
her  skirts.  "  You  won't  go !  You  don't  want  to 
make  me  worse,  do  you?  Think  how  sorry  you'll 
be  if  I  cough  and  worry  you  all  the  evening!  " 

"  Can't  I  get  you  anything?  If  only  I  were  not 
so  stupid  about  illness.  Don't  try  to  talk  if  it 
makes  you  worse." 

"  I  won't  —  if  you'll  stay." 

To  Arithelli  caresses  did  not  come  easily,  but  dur- 
ing the  last  few  weeks  she  had  learnt  many  things. 
She  stroked  the  dark  head  that  rested  against  her 
knee,  wondering  how  it  was  that  she  had  never  be- 
fore noticed  till  to-day  how  feverishly  brilliant  Var- 
dri's  eyes  were,  and  how  his  skin  burnt.  She  had 
often  heard  him  coughing  before,  but  he  had  always 
gone  away  and  left  her  when  an  attack  came  on, 
with  some  laughing  excuse  about  the  horrible  noise 
he  made.  After  a  while  he  shifted  his  position,  and 
smiled  up  at  her. 

"  You're  getting  tired,  Fatalite!  " 

"  No.  Tell  me,  have  you  anything  important  to 
do  to-night?" 

"No,  dear,  and  if  I  had  I  shouldn't  do  it.  Do 
you  feel  well  enough  to  come  out  and  have  dinner 
with  me  somewhere?  I'll  take  you  to  some  place 
where  it's  quiet." 


THE  HIPPODROME  197 

"  Why  not  let  us  stay  here  all  the  evening,  and 
have  supper  together?"  Arithelli  suggested. 
"  We'll  take  Emile's  things.  He  loves  cooking 
cochonneries,  and  there  is  sure  to  be  a  quelque  chose 
somewhere  in  the  cupboard." 

Vardri  scrambled  to  his  feet.  "Bon!  Sit  still, 
and  I'll  go  and  acheter  les  —  things!  We'll  leave 
Emile's  cochonneries  alone.  I'm  rich  now,  so  we 
will  have  luxuries." 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  hunt  for  plates  and  dishes,  and 
wash  them  properly  (not  like  the  Gentiles  do)  while 
you  go  and  acheter  les  —  things ! "  Arithelli 
mocked.  "  What  a  dreadful  mixture  of  languages 
we  all  use!  I  used  to  speak  German  quite  well 
when  I  was  at  the  convent,  but  now  I  have  for- 
gotten nearly  all  of  it.  This  place  is  bad  for  both 
one's  French  and  English,  and  Emile  says  that 
when  I  try  and  speak  Spanish  it  sounds  like  some- 
one sawing  wood." 

Vardri  went  out  still  coughing,  and  came  back 
flushed  and  excitable,  laden  with  various  untidy  par- 
cels, from  which  some  of  the  contents  were  pro- 
truding. Long  rolls,  the  materials  for  a  salad,  a 
pate,  flowers,  and  an  enormous  cluster  of  grapes. 
They  pledged  each  other  in  the  yellow  wine  of  the 
country,  and  presently  Vardri  set  about  the  manu- 


198  THE  HIPPODROME 

facture  of  what  he  inaccurately  described  as  Turkish 
coffee.  That  the  result  of  his  efforts  was  half  cold 
and  evil-tasting  mattered  not  to  either  of  them. 

Arithelli's  red  hair  was  crowned  with  vine  leaves 
that  he  had  stripped  from  the  grape-cluster  and 
twisted  into  a  Bacchante  wreath.  She  leant  her 
elbow  on  the  table,  resting  her  chin  upon  her 
hand.  Her  eyes  glowed  jewel -like,  almost  the  same 
colour  as  her  garland.  The  flame  of  love  had 
melted  into  warmth  her  statue-like  coldness,  and 
given  her  the  one  thing  she  had  lacked  —  expres- 
sion. Yet  the  mystery,  the  charm  that  surrounded 
her  clung  to  her  even  when  she  appeared  most 
womanly.  To  the  boy  lover  gazing  with  devouring 
eyes  she  seemed  that  night  more  than  a  woman. 
He  thought  of  the  tales  he  had  heard  as  a  child  from 
the  peasants  on  winter  nights  in  his  own  country. 
Tales  of  the  forests  and  legends  of  the  Hartz 
Mountains,  of  lonely  places  haunted  by  nixies  and 
wood  maidens,  fairy  shapes  with  streaming  hair  and 
vaporous  robes,  seeing  which  a  man  would  become 
for  ever  after  mad  with  longing,  and  desire  no 
mortal  woman. 

Arithelli's  long  limbs  appeared  nymphlike  in  her 
plain  blue  high-waisted  gown  of  Emile's  choosing, 
that  had  no  superfluous  bow  or  trimming,  and  left 
free  her  beauty  of  outline.  She  possessed  no  jewel- 


THE  HIPPODROME  199 

lery  now  wherewith  to  deck  herself,  and  there  was 
no  trace  of  artificial  red  on  face  and  lips. 

The  candles  on  the  table  flickered  to  and  fro  in 
the  draught  from  the  open  window  and  she  shiv- 
ered in  the  midst  of  some  laughing  speech  and 
glanced  over  her  shoulder  at  the  door  behind  her. 

Vardri,  reading  her  thoughts,  said,  "  You're 
afraid  of  something,  dear,  what  is  it?  " 

"  Nothing,  at  least  I  thought  someone  was  lis- 
tening, was  coming  in.  We  are  always  talking  of 
spies  till  one  gets  absurdly  nervous  and  imagines 
all  sorts  of  foolish  things.  I  have  never  said  so  to 
anyone  else,  but  there  is  always  the  feeling  of  be- 
ing watched.  It  is  so  difficult  to  know  who  is  for 
and  who  against  us,  and  so  easy  to  give  evidence 
without  meaning  to  be  a  traitor.  Just  before  I 
got  ill,  Sobrenski  sent  me  to  a  little  newspaper  shop 
down  in  the  Parelelo  quarter.  I  was  to  ask  if  they 
sold  'Le  Flambeau'  The  man  looked  at  me  hard 
and  asked  if  there  was  any  connection  between  that 
journal  and  the  one  published  at  number  27  Calle 
de  Pescadores.  The  sun  must  have  made  me  feel 
stupid,  and  I  answered  Yes,  without  thinking.  I 
had  taken  it  for  granted  that  the  man  was  one  of 
us,  and  then  I  knew  suddenly  that  he  wasn't." 

Vardri  bent  forward  across  the  table.  "  Did  you 
tell  anyone  what  you  had  said  ?  " 


200  THE  HIPPODROME 

"  Not  Sobrenski ;  I  told  Emile.  He  looked  me  up 
and  down,  and  said  something  that  I  couldn't  hear, 
and  then,  '  I  thought  you  could  hold  your  tongue, 
Fatalite.  It  seems,  after  all,  you  are  a  woman  and 
can't !  *  and  then  he  walked  out  of  the  room.  Var- 
dri,  did  you  ever  feel  as  I  do  when  you  first  began  to 
work  for  the  Cause?  Perhaps  one  gets  used  to  it 
in  the  end  and  doesn't  care." 

"  Yes,"  the  boy  answered  between  his  teeth, 
"  Yes !  One  gets  used  to  it.  Dear,  your  hands 
are  trembling.  Do  you  think  anyone  can  hurt  you 
while  I'm  here?  You  are  nervous  because  you've 
been  ill,  that's  all.  This  is  the  first  time  you've  been 
out  and  you  are  overtired.  I'll  take  you  back  soon. 
You  were  all  right  a  few  minutes  ago.  You  thing 
of  moods! " 

She  tried  to  smile,  "  I  warned  you,  mon  ami." 
"  I    know.     It    wasn't    any    use.     That    wreath 
makes    you   look   like   the    statue    of    Ariadne    in 
Rome." 

"  I  wish  you  would  talk  to  me  about  yourself." 
"Myself!"  Vardri  shrugged  expressively,  "Ma 
foil " 

"  Tell  me  what  made  you  join  the  Cause." 
"  Because  of  a  man  I  believed   in.     You  have 
heard  of  Guerchouni  who  died  early  in  the  year? 


THE  HIPPODROME  201 

There  was  a  great  funeral  in  Paris.     It  was  in  all 
the  papers." 

Arithelli  nodded,  "  Yes,  I  heard  the  men  talking 
about  it  at  one  of  the  meetings.  I  wasn't  interested 
enough  to  listen  then.  Was  he — ?" 

"  He  was  one  of  our  greatest  leaders.  His  death 
meant  something  to  me,  because  it  was  really 
through  him  that  I  joined  the  Red  Flag.  He  had  a 
life  sentence  in  Eastern  Siberia  and  he  escaped  from' 
there  and  got  to  America.  For  some  time  none  of 
us  knew  exactly  where  he  was,  and  then  we  heard 
rumours  that  he  was  dangerously  ill  at  Geneva. 
Then  came  news  of  his  death  and  his  funeral  in 
Paris.  His  friends  had  decided  to  bring  the  body 
there,  so  that  all  the  comrades  might  be  present,  for 
there  are  many  anarchists  in  Paris.  They  gave 
him  a  guard  of  honour  of  Russian  students,  men 
and  women  surrounding  the  coffin  with  linked 
hands,  and  there  were  hundreds  of  red  roses  and 
red  carnations,  though  it  was  in  the  winter  —  there 
had  been  snow  on  the  ground  a  few  days  before. 
There  was  a  crown  of  thorns  from  those  who  had 
been  his  companions  in  prison,  and  the  canopy  of 
the  hearse  was  a  red  flag.  If  only  I  could  have 
been  there  to  do  him  homage ! 

"  There  are  all  sorts  of  wild  stories  about  his 


202  THE  HIPPODROME 

escape  from  Siberia.  I  suppose  he  bewitched  the 
jailers  as  he  bewitched  other  men.  He  was  the 
first  man  I  ever  heard  speak  about  the  Cause.  He 
came  to  Vienna  and  held  meetings  for  the  propa- 
ganda and  collected  enormous  crowds.  I  had  just 
begun  to  take  life  seriously  then,  to  think  about 
things  and  to  hate  injustice. 

"  My  father  drank  and  wasted  money  and  treated 
his  servants  brutally.  My  mother  was  dead,  and 
when  she  was  alive  she  was  an  invalid,  and  could 
do  nothing.  Most  of  the  people  I  knew  seemed  to 
think  the  serfs  no  better  than  animals.  I  remember 
how  sometimes  when  we  were  starting  oft"  in  the 
early  morning  for  a  boar  hunt  in  the  forest,  they 
would  come  begging  and  whining  round  the  horses' 
heels. 

"  They  seldom  got  anything  except  a  kick  or  a 
curse.  They  looked  scarcely  human,  yet  it  was  our- 
selves who  were  the  brutes  really. 

"  Well,  Guerchouni  spoke  and  I  went  and  listened 
to  him.  A  friend  with  whom  I  had  gone  to  the 
meetings  gave  me  an  introduction  to  him.  I  was 
mad  on  the  Cause  long  before  the  interview  was 
over.  He  was  a  man  that !  If  he  had  looked  at  me 
twice,  I  would  have  walked  through  flames  to  please 
him.  Oh,  I  wasn't  the  only  one!  We  all  felt  like 
that  more  or  less  with  Guerchouni.  I  couldn't  de- 


THE  HIPPODROME  203 

scribe  him.  He  was  not  a  tall  man,  but  he  carried 
himself  well,  and  he  was  dark  and  pale  with  won- 
derful blazing  eyes.  One  knew  him  at  once,  and 
talked  as  if  one  had  known  him  for  years. 

"  Of  course  I  accepted  all  his  theories  and  doc- 
trines except  two.  I  don't  believe  in  '  L3 Union 
libreS  (They  all  do,  you  know,  or  nearly  all)  and 
I  never  was  an  atheist. 

"A  Catholic  and  an  Anarchist!  It  sounds  im- 
possible, doesn't  it,  but " —  he  flushed  boyishly  — "  I 
believe  in  Le  bon  Dien,  and  the  union  libre  is  hard 
on  women.  Yes,  I  adored  Guerchouni.  He 
worked  day  and  night,  he  feared  nothing,  he  did 
impossibilities  himself  and  he  made  us  do  impos- 
sibilities." 

"  He  was  like  Sobrenski." 

"  Yes,  he  was  like  Sobrenski  in  some  ways.  He 
will  be  a  loss  to  the  Cause." 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence,  and  then 
Arithelli  spoke.  "  Tell  me  one  more  thing.  Now 
we  are  alone,  we  can  speak  the  truth  to  each  other, 
you  and  I.  Vardri,  do  you  still  care  for  the  Cause 
—  in  the  same  way  you  did  before?  "  She  whis- 
pered the  question  fearfully,  yet  knowing  well  what 
the  answer  must  be. 

"  I  don't  feel  the  same  about  it  since  I  have 
known  you." 


204  THE  HIPPODROME 

"  I  have  not  tried  to  make  you  a  traitor,  have  I  ? 
Sobrenski  always  suspects  me  of  that." 

"  My  sweet,  you  have  done  nothing.  I  love  you, 
therefore  I  must  feel  differently  about  the  Cause. 
Why?  Because  I'm  afraid  of  it  for  you.  Because 
these  men  have  no  consideration  for  you  as  a 
woman,  because  they  always  make  you  take  the 
greatest  risks.  It  is  always  so  in  this  work.  Look 
what  happens  to  the  women  in  Russia.  When  there 
is  a  political '  Execution  '  there,  nine  times  out  of  ten 
it  is  a  woman  who  throws  the  bomb.  Look  at  the 
things  they  have  done  lately.  At  the  printing  of- 
fice we  see  all  the  anarchist  journals,  and  the  com- 
rades get  news  privately.  The  men  do  little  in 
risking  their  lives  compared  to  the  women,  and 
some  of  them  are  so  young.  An  article  in  '  Les 
temps  Nouveaux  '  of  last  week  said  that, '  beside  the 
men  these  young  girls  are  as  artistes  beside  artisans.' 
The  last  case  was  Sophia  Pervesky.  She  was  ar- 
rested for  being  in  charge  of  a  secret  printing- 
press.  Before  the  police  seized  her  she  nearly 
found  time  to  put  her  lighted  cigarette  down  on  a 
pile  of  explosives.  They  wounded  her  in  two 
places,  threw  her  down,  and  stamped  on  her  in- 
juries. Then  they  took  her  to  the  hospital  and  kept 
her  there  till  she  had  recovered.  She  waited  two 


THE  HIPPODROME  205 

months  for  death  and  then  they  brought  her  out  one 
morning  in  the  dawn  and  hanged  her. 

" '  You  shall  see  how  a  Russian  woman  dies,'  she 
told  them  as  she  ran  up  the  ladder  and  flung  herself 
into  space. 

"  You  women  shame  us  with  your  courage. 
Now  every  time  I  hear  of  a  thing  like  that,  I  think 
of  you.  You  may  have  to  run  some  great  risk  here 
for  a  caprice  of  Sobrenski's." 

"  Vardri,  Vardri,  I  wonder  what  will  be  the  end 
of  it  all?" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  walls  of  the  Hippodrome  were  no  longer 
adorned  with  gaudy  posters  whereon  flared  a 
travestied  portrait  of  "  The  beautiful  English  eques- 
trienne." No  longer  for  Arithelli  were  showered 
roses,  the  tribute  of  head-lines  in  the  weekly  jour- 
nals, and  the  welcome  of  many  voices.  She  had 
been  absent  for  nearly  a  month,  therefore  she  might 
as  well  have  been  dead  as  far  as  the  Spanish  public 
was  concerned. 

The  Manager  had  known  this  and  had  been  care- 
ful to  provide  his  patrons  with  a  new  toy,  who 
had  come,  even  as  Arithelli  herself,  from  Paris. 
This  was  a  female  contortionist  with  a  serpent's 
grace,  and  a  serpent's  flat  head,  and  wicked  slit 
eyes.  She  had  proved  a  success,  so  he  could  afford 
to  exult,  and  Estelle  dangled  in  triumph  a  new  pair 
of  diamond  earrings.  He  had  lost  nothing  and 
the  once  famous  Arithelli,  the  "  She-wolf  "  who  had 
been  mad  enough  to  defy  him,  was  now  simply  one 
of  the  crowd.  Her  name  did  not  appear  on  the 
programme.  She  was  not  even  Madame  Mignonne 

206 


THE  HIPPODROME  207 

now,  but  merely  a  unit  among  the  many  other  wo- 
men who  were  grouped  in  the  grand  spectacle,  or 
a  rider  in  a  procession  with  twenty  others.  He  had 
reduced  her  salary  to  a  third  of  what  it  had  been 
formerly,  and  every  Saturday  she  was  required  to 
assist  with  the  correspondence  and  weekly  accounts. 
If  she  did  not  like  this  arrangement,  he  explained, 
she  could  fight  out  the  terms  of  her  contract  in  the 
courts.  Doubtless  she  had  a  great  opinion  of  her 
own  capabilities,  but  as  she  could  see  for  herself 
her  place  had  been  easily  filled.  The  world  was 
large,  and  there  were  plenty  of  women  —  sacre,  too 
many! 

As  usual  he  was  disappointed  in  the  effect  of  his 
remarks.  Whether  her  silence  meant  indifference 
or  sheer  stupidity  he  was  never  quite  sure.  As  Ari- 
thelli  had  no  vanity  the  loss  of  her  position  meant 
little  to  her. 

The  loss  of  a  private  dressing-room  meant  a  great 
deal.  It  was  a  refined  torture  to  her  to  be  herded 
among  the  other  women,  with  their  noise  and  quar- 
relling and  coarse  jokes.  She  found  changes  too. 
Her  friend  the  toothless  lion  had  succumbed  to  old 
age,  several  of  the  helpers  had  been  changed,  and 
Vardri  was  no  longer  near  at  hand  to  lift  her  on 
to  her  horse  and  wait  to  help  her  dismount.  When- 
ever he  could  get  away  from  Vladimir  and  the 


208  THE  HIPPODROME 

newspaper  office,  he  was  among  the  spectators,  and 
their  thoughts  and  glances  met  across  the  wide 
arena's  space.  Emile  did  not  come  regularly  now 
though  he  took  care  there  was  always  someone  sent 
to  bring  her  home. 

Since  the  night  of  the  alarms  in  the  Calle  de  Pesca- 
dores, the  Brotherhood  had  decided  in  council  that 
they  must  change  their  place  of  meeting,  at  any 
rate  for  a  time,  and  that  no  part  of  the  city  itself 
could  be  considered  safe  for  the  purposes  of  a 
meeting  place. 

They  must  keep  to  the  hut  up  in  the  mountains. 
This  had  been  seldom  used  on  account  of  the  diffi- 
culty in  getting  there,  and  the  waste  of  time  in- 
volved by  the  distance.  In  all  respects  it  was  safer. 
If  they  were  surprised  it  was  not  likely  they  would 
all  be  caught,  for  in  the  open  there  was  always  a 
chance  of  escape.  The  distance  and  lonely  situation 
were  all  in  their  favour.  In  a  small  house  in  a  nar- 
row street  they  were  like  trapped  animals. 

The  custom  was  to  start  at  midnight  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  collecting  by  degrees,  and  when 
they  were  well  on  their  way  the  cavalcade  joined  to- 
gether and  formed  into  Indian  file. 

Some  were  on  horseback  and  some  on  the  more 
sure-footed  mules. 

Not  one  among  the  conspirators  could  ride  with 


THE  HIPPODROME  209 

the  exception  of  Vardri  and  Emile,  and  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  art  possessed  by  the  latter  was  poor 
enough. 

The  steeds  of  the  general  company  went  at  what- 
ever pace  they  chose  and  in  what  direction  they  saw 
fit,  and  occasionally  two  or  three  got  wedged  to- 
gether in  some  narrow  place  and  there  was  an  inter- 
lude of  kicking  and  squealing. 

Then  "  Fatalite  "  was  called  to  the  rescue  as  be- 
ing the  only  one  among  them  capable  of  managing 
horseflesh. 

When  not  required  in  her  office  of  peacemaker 
she  was  sent  on  in  front  as  guide  to  the  procession, 
dressed  in  her  boy's  disguise  and  astride  the  most 
vicious  of  the  mules.  These  excursions  meant  less 
rest  for  her  than  ever  for  the  party  seldom  returned 
till  five  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

Emile  had  told  her  that  she  must  get  her  sleep 
up  in  the  hut. 

"  You  have  two  hours  to  yourself,"  he  said. 
"  You  .can't  sleep  up  there?  Nonsense!  Makeup 
your  mind  to  do  it  and  then  you  will." 

The  building  in  question,  which  was  more  like  an 
outhouse  than  anything  else,  she  had  christened, 
"  The  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta."  The  upper  part, 
which  was  approached  by  a  ladder  as  a  loft  would 
be,  was  used  as  a  meeting-room,  while  the  ground 


210  THE  HIPPODROME 

floor  became  a  temporary  stable  for  the  horses  and 
mules,  of  which  she  was  left  in  charge.  Since  the 
scene  in  that  upper  room  in  the  Calle  de  Pescadores 
she  had  put  herself  outside  all  consideration;  and 
Sobrenski  now  excluded  her  from  all  work  other 
than  the  merest  drudgery.  Vardri  was  also  kept 
under  surveillance.  It  was  felt  by  all  that  in  some 
quarter  treachery  lurked  as  yet  undiscovered,  and 
every  man  suspected  his  comrades.  There  were  in- 
dications that  someone,  hitherto  a  sworn  ally  of  the 
Cause,  had  turned  spy  and  sold  certain  information 
to  the  authorities. 

Even  Sobrenski's  iron  nerves  were  stretched  to 
breaking  point. 

The  rest  tried  to  drown  anxiety  in  absinthe,  and 
all  grew  daily  more  morose  and  uncertain  of  temper. 

The  first  sensation  came  in  the  shape  of  a  rumour 
that  Count  Vladimir's  companion,  Pauline  Souvar- 
off,  had  disappeared. 

Only  three  people  knew  that  she  had  vanished  ut- 
terly and  completely  on  the  same  day  that  she  had 
received  a  communication  from  the  leader.  The 
note  had  been  brought  to  her  by  Vladimir  himself. 
He  could  guess  at  its  contents,  but  Pauline  had  re- 
vealed nothing. 

Two  hours  afterwards  when  he  went  on  shore 
she  was  shut  up  in  her  cabin,  and  he  had  not  inter- 


THE  HIPPODROME  211 

rupted  her,  thinking  she  was  asleep.  When  he  re- 
turned, and  found  her  door  unlocked,  and  her  cabin 
empty,  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  occurred  to  him. 

Everything  was  left  in  perfect  order,  but  there 
was  no  letter,  no  word  of  explanation.  He  ques- 
tioned the  crew,  and  heard  that  she  had  been  rowed 
to  shore  by  two  of  them  soon  after  he  left.  She 
had  given  the  men  orders  not  to  wait,  but  to  return 
at  once  to  the  yacht.  For  a  week  Vladimir  hunted 
through  street  and  slum.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
he  knew  that  alive  or  dead  he  would  never  see  Paul- 
ine Souvaroff  again.  The  missive  he  had  brought 
her  from  Sobrenski  had  probably  meant  a  journey 
for  her  to  one  of  the  great  centres  of  the  move- 
ment —  Amsterdam,  Geneva,  or  perhaps  even  Lon- 
don. 

Alphonse  of  Spain  was  now  in  England,  having 
escaped  two  attempts  upon  his  life  in  Paris,  and  in 
his  own  capital.  His  every  moment  would  be 
watched  and  noted  by  the  destroyers  of  monarchy. 
Probably  she  had  been  chosen  to  obtain  informa- 
tion, because  women  made  better  spies  than  men, 
and  their  movements  were  not  so  likely  to  be  noticed 
by  the  police.  Many  a  high  official  whose  name 
was  on  the  list  of  those  condemned  to  death  by  a 
revolutionary  tribunal  had  been  tracked  from  city 
to  city  by  female  agents. 


212  THE  HIPPODROME 

Yet,  if  she  had  been  sent  on  such  an  errand,  what 
reason  could  she  have  had  for  going  in  secret,  alone 
and  without  a  word  of  farewell  ?  He  had  supposed 
it  impossible  that  she  could  have  kept  anything  from 
him;  of  course  there  must  eventually  be  separation. 
He  had  warned  her  of  that.  And  when  it  came  he 
had  expected  scenes,  tears  and  a  frantic  appeal. 

That  she  should  vanish  in  silence  was  inconceiv- 
able. Perhaps  she  had  not  cared  for  him  so  much 
after  all.  In  any  case  the  episode  had  been  a 
charming  one,  and  to  him  no  woman  could  ever 
have  been  more  than  an  episode.  He  had  shown 
her  some  of  the  many  beautiful  things  and  places 
of  the  world,  and  by  her  own  words  he  had  made 
her  happy.  Now  their  play  time  was  over.  He 
had  his  work  and  she  hers.  She  had  come  into  his 
life  as  a  piece  of  driftwood  floats  to  shore  on  the 
edge  of  a  wave,  and  gone  out  of  it  as  noiselessly. 

Vladimir  did  not  discuss  his  private  affairs,  so 
that  among  all  the  conspirators  Emile  alone  knew, 
and  it  was  Emile  alone  who  guessed  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"  Tout  passe,  tout  casse,  tout  lasse." 

FOR  some  clays  Arithelli  had  not  seen  Emile,  and 
she  had  wondered.  Since  the  night  she  had  sat 
with  Vardri  in  his  room,  he  had  scarcely  spoken  to 
her  except  for  a  few  moments  on  business  matters. 

She  thought  he  looked  haggard  and  worried,  and 
there  was  a  change  that  she  could  not  define  in  his 
manner  towards  her.  She  wondered  if  he  knew 
about  Vardri,  if  he  thought  she  was  deceiving  him. 

She  wanted  to  tell  of  this  new,  wonderful  thing 
that  had  befallen  her,  but  he  had  given  her  no 
chance,  and  she  had  begun  to  think  that  he  did  not 
even  take  sufficient  interest  in  her  to  care  what  she 
thought  or  felt  as  long  as  she  performed  her  al- 
lotted tasks  and  did  not  worry  him  with  complaints 
or  questions. 

The  feeling  of  a  barrier  between  them  troubled 
her  vaguely,  and  she  was  glad  when  she  found 
him  one  night  waiting  for  her  outside  the  stage 
door. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  was  smoking  a  cigarette 
in  her  room  while  she  brushed  her  hair. 

213 


214  THE  HIPPODROME 

They  had  been  silent  for  some  time,  and  both 
started  when  the  door  was  assaulted  by  a  sudden 
thump,  and  the  scarecrow-like  visage  of  the  de- 
pressed landlady  appeared  in  the  opening. 

Having  delivered  herself  of  a  small  cardboard 
box,  and  a  few  grumbling  comments  upon  the  inde- 
cent hours  and  ways  of  circus  performers,  she  with- 
drew, and  Arithelli  proceeded  to  cut  the  string  and 
remove  the  lid. 

"I  can't  see  what  it  is  in  this  light,"  she  said; 
"  Emile,  may  I  have  the  candle  a  little  nearer  ? 
Flowers?  No  one  sends  me  flowers  now.  But 
these  are — " 

Her  voice  broke  and  stopped.  Emile,  who  had 
been  on  the  alert  from  the  moment  of  the  landlady's 
entrance,  sprang  up  and  pulled  the  girl  to  one  side. 
A  mysterious  parcel  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  too 
late  for  any  post.  One  might  have  guessed  what 
it  meant. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  sharply.  The  answer 
was  an  incoherent  one,  and  he  could  see  that  she 
was  paralysed  with  terror. 

The  opening  of  the  box  had  revealed  a  sinister- 
looking  bouquet  of  artificial  black  roses  tied  with 
blood-red  ribbons. 

In  Barcelona  there  are  many  strange  and  in- 
genious ways  of  conveying  death  by  explosives. 


THE  HIPPODROME  215 

A  clock,  a  painted  casket  which  might  contain  bon- 
bons; a  coffee-pot,  a  casserole  —  any  apparently 
harmless  and  common  utensil. 

A  bunch  of  flowers  was  one  of  the  most  common 
mediums  for  a  bomb. 

The  Anarchist  colours  showed  clearly  that  it  must 
either  have  been  sent  by  an  enemy  who  had  been 
formerly  one  of  the  band,  and  who  was  now  re- 
venging himself  by  an  attempt  to  see  his  former  as- 
sociates "  hoist  with  their  own  petard,"  or  else  it  was 
an  affair  of  the  police.  In  any  case,  supposing  the 
thing  to  be  harmless,  it  was  a  warning  of  danger. 

Emile's  wits  worked  swiftly,  and  he  was  used  to 
emergencies.  He  looked  round,  and  found  a  jug 
of  water,  and  the  floral  tribute  floated  harmlessly 
therein.  As  it  did  not  sink  at  once  he  concluded 
that  there  was  no  concealed  bomb.  Then  he  turned 
his  attention  to  Arithelli,  and  gave  her  a  vigorous 
shaking,  which  was  probably,  under  the  circum- 
stances, the  best  possible  restorative. 

"  You'll  die  more  than  once  in  imagination  before 
your -time  comes,  Fatalite.  Probably  the  next  par- 
cel you  receive  will  not  need  as  much  investiga- 
tion." 

She  tried  to  smile.  "  I'm  sorry !  They  looked 
so  uncanny,  and  when  I  saw  red  I  thought  —  Emile, 
what  does  it  all  mean?  " 


'216  THE  HIPPODROME 

"  It  means  danger,  my  dear.  It  means  that  you 
are  suspected.  You  yourself  best  know  whether 
the  suspicion  is  deserved  or  not.  Of  course  it  may 
be  only  one  of  the  police  tricks,  but  I  don't  think 
so.  Anyway  whether  it  was  charged  or  not  it's 
safe  enough  now.  Look  in  the  box  and  on  the 
floor  to  see  if  there's  any  note  or  message.  There 
isn't?  Eh  bien!  I  suppose  they  thought  this 
would  speak  with  sufficient  eloquence." 

He  fished  the  bedraggled  bouquet  out  of  the  wa- 
ter and  hung  it  like  a  trophy  across  Arithelli's  mir- 
ror, which  was  a  fetish  of  its  owner  and  the  one 
valuable  thing  she  now  possessed.  It  had  been  the 
gift  of  Michael  Furness,  who  had  bought  it  from  the 
Jewish  herbalist.  It  was  of  antique  silver  gilt  in 
oval  shape,  and  rimmed  with  rough  topaz  set  in  sil- 
ver, and  was  alleged  by  its  former  owner  to  have 
been  the  property  of  Agnes  Sorel.  Arithelli  had 
often  declared  that  in  it  she  could  see  visions  as  in 
a  crystal. 

Over  it  Emile  carefully  arranged  the  flowers  so 
that  the  stained  red  ribbons  hung  limply  across  the 
polished  surface.  Then  he  sat  down  again  and 
lighted  another  cigarette. 

"You  ought  not  to  be  afraid  of  this  sort  of 
thing,  you  know,"  he  said.  "  Sudden  death  is  part 
of  our  business.  In  the  oath  we  take  we  swear  to 


THE  HIPPODROME  217 

'  Slay  or  be  slain,'  if  by  so  doing  we  can  advance 
the  Cause  one  small  step  forward." 

She  caught  at  her  breast  with  a  sudden  gesture  of 
passion.  Death  —  could  they  talk  and  think  of 
nothing  else?  And  she  was  a  woman  now,  not  a 
weapon,  and  she  wanted  life. 

"  You  don't  seem  very  enthusiastic,"  the  cold 
voice  continued.  "A  few  months  ago  the  danger- 
ous side  of  the  game  was  rather  an  attraction  to  you 
than  otherwise.  Now  you  shrink  and  shiver  at 
everything.  You  do  your  work,  yes,  because,  you 
can't  help  doing  that,  but  is  there  any  heart  in  what 
you  do?  " 

"  None !     Every  day  I  live,  I  loathe  it  more !  " 

"Take  care!" 

"  I'm  past  caring.  When  I  came  out  here  first 
I  was  a  child  playing  at  a  new  game." 

Emile's  back  was  turned  to  her,  and  if  his  an- 
swering speech  was  brutal,  it  was  because  his  con- 
science was  awake  and  crying  fiercely.  He  would 
not  be  likely  to  make  the  mistake  of  interfering  with 
people's  lives  a  second  time.  He  had  seen  in  her 
an  instrument  to  be  handled  at  will,  and  had  charged 
himself  with  the  burden  of  her  destiny,  and  now  he 
supposed  she  was  about  to  reproach  him. 

"  You  are  hysterical.  That's  the  worst  of 
women.  They  always  are  —  more  or  less.  You 


218  THE  HIPPODROME 

had  better  go  to  bed,  and  not  talk  nonsense.  If 
you  were  a  child  only  a  few  months  ago  you  are  not 
too  old  to  be  treated  as  one  now." 

It  hurt  him  more  than  it  hurt  her,  but  she  would 
never  know  that.  His  pulses  hammered  furiously 
as  she  dropped  at  his  side  with  a  soft  rustle  of  gar- 
ments. Her  clasped  hands  rested  on  his  knee;  the 
strong,  slender  hands  that  had  grown  rough  with 
work. 

"  Emile,"  she  whispered,  "  can't  you  see  that  I've 
altered?  I'm  a  woman  now.  You  said  I  should 
be  one  soon.  I've  wanted  to  tell  you  all  along,  but 
I  always  hoped  you  had  guessed." 

"  Perhaps  I  did,  but  I  preferred  that  you  should 
tell  me  yourself.  And  since  when  have  you  become 
what  you  call  '  a  woman '  ?  No,  you  needn't  an- 
swer. When  I  knew  that  you  and  Vardri  had  been 
together  in  my  rooms,  I  was  certain  I  had  not 
warned  you  without  reason." 

"  You  knew  before  I  did  myself." 

"  Man  enfant,  I'm  neither  blind  nor  a  fool.  As 
they  say  in  this  country,  '  love  and  a  cough  cannot 
be  hidden.'  I  was  sure  about  Vardri,  but  about 
you ;  —  no,  one  couldn't  say.  When  you  came  out 
here  you  were  a  sexless  creature  with  a  brain.  It 
did  not  seem  likely  that  you  would  develop  into  the 
ordinary  girl  with  a  lover." 


THE  HIPPODROME  219 

It  was  the  only  way  he  could  keep  a  hold  upon 
himself,  by  keeping  up  a  pose  of  cynicism.  The 
fragrance  of  her  hair,  the  curved  mouth  so  close 
to  his  own,  maddened  him.  He  who  could  have 
been  her  lover  had  been  only  her  guardian,  her  task- 
master. And  now  she  was  ready  to  give  herself 
to  a  boy,  who  thought  life  was  a  romance,  and  who 
would  probably  sit  at  her  feet  reading  poetry  while 
they  both  starved. 

"You  have  been  together  often?" 

Her  head  drooped.  "  Yes.  I  should  have  told 
you  before." 

"  What  plans  have  you  made  ?  I  suppose  it  will 
be  the  usual  mad  scheme  of  running  away.  I  ought 
to  betray  you,  of  course,  but — " 

"  We  haven't  arranged  anything  yet ;  there  is 
plenty  of  time." 

"  Plenty  of  time  —  Mon  Dieu !  "  the  man  rasped 
out.  "  How  like  you,  Fatal  ite !  What  a  pair ! 
Vardri  always  living  au  clair  de  la  lune,  and  you 
half  asleep,  and  full  of  illusions.  Les  illusions  sont 
les  hirondelles.  How  often  have  I  told  you  that  ?  " 

"  They  make  life  possible,"  Arithelli  answered 
softly. 

Again  the  man  stared  and  marvelled.  Verily, 
here  was  another  being  who  was  neither  "  Becky 
Sharp  "  nor  "  Fatalite."  The  exultation,  the  tri- 


220  THE  HIPPODROME 

umph  of  one  loved  and  desired,  was  hers  for  the 
moment.  Who,  seeing  her  now,  could  have  the 
heart  to  warn  her  of  inevitable  disillusion,  the  doubts 
and  fears,  the  clinging  and  the  torments  that  are  the 
heritage  of  all  womenkind. 

He,  too,  had  once  dreamed  foolish  dreams. 

He  gripped  her  by  the  shoulder  and  forced  her 
to  look  at  him. 

"  Vardri  is  your  lover  ?  You  shall  answer  me 
before  I  leave  this  room." 

She  did  not  flinch,  or  blush,  or  look  away. 

"  I  love  him." 

Joy  shone  in  her  widely  open  eyes.  Love  hov- 
ered about  her  mouth,  and  the  passion  that  had 
stirred  in  him  momentarily  shrank  back  ashamed. 
He  pushed  back  her  hair  with  a  rough  caress. 

"  It's  all  right,  ma  chere.  You  needn't  be  afraid. 
I  shall  not  be  here  to  advise  you  soon,  and  all  I  have 
to  say  now  is,  never  imagine  yourself  secure  for  an 
instant.  Sobrenski  is  bound  to  discover  this  in  the 
course  of  time,  and  he  has  seen  this  sort  of  thing 
before,  which  will  not  make  him  any  more  merciful. 
He  has  watched  human  nature  long  enough  to  know 
that  where  there  is  what  you  would  call  love,  peo- 
ple want  to  create,  they  no  longer  want  to  destroy. 
If,  as  you  say,  you  have  made  no  plans,  then  make 
them.  And  now  you'd  better  go  to  bed,  unless  you 


THE  HIPPODROME  221 

want  to  look  more  like  a  ghost  than  usual  to-mor- 
row." 

As  he  went  out  into  the  moonlit  street  Emile  knew 
that  he  had  taken  the  first  step  on  his  Via  Crucis. 
He  did  not  call  it  that,  for  of  religion  in  the  ortho- 
dox sense  he  possessed  nothing,  but  he  knew  that 
his  feet  were  set  upon  the  path  where  snow  and 
blood  would  mingle  in  his  footprints.  He  was  go- 
ing back  to  Russia,  where  death  would  be  a  thing 
to  be  welcomed  and  desired.  He  had  listened  to 
the  tales  of  escaped  prisoners,  and  he  knew  that  no 
words  could  exaggerate  this  frozen  Hell  in  which 
flourished  vices  unnamable,  where  men  rotted  alive, 
and  women  strangled  themselves  with  their  own 
hair,  or  cut  their  throats  with  a  scrap  of  glass  to 
escape  the  brutalities  of  a  gaoler  or  Cossack  guard. 

He  wondered  whether  it  would  be  Akatui,  or 
the  mines,  for  him.  It  was  no  use  to  try  and  delude 
himself  that  he  could  escape  the  police. 

He  had  got  out  of  Russia  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth 
last  time,  and,  even  if  he  managed  to  get  his  de- 
spatches safely  delivered,  there  would  be  a  raid 
on  the  newspaper  office,  an  arrest  in  the  street.  Of 
course  there  was  always  the  hope  that  he  might 
come  in  for  a  chance  shot  in  a  scrimmage,  but 
that  was  too  much  luck  to  expect. 

He  had  nothing  to  wait  for  now  after  what  he 


222  THE  HIPPODROME 

had  heard  to-night,  and  the  sooner  he  put  himself 
out  of  the  way,  the  better.  He  would  volunteer 
at  once  for  the  St.  Petersburg  mission.  The  usual 
custom  was  to  cast  lots,  unless  some  enthusiast 
begged  for  the  privilege  of  a  speedy  doom.  By 
virtue  of  his  long  service  he  had  a  right  to  claim 
that  privilege. 

If  he  could  go  to-morrow  so  much  the  better. 
After  what  Arithelli  had  confessed  it  would  be 
dangerous  for  them  both  if  he  stayed.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  primaeval  man  in  him  leapt  up,  telling  him 
that  he  had  only  to  pit  himself  against  Vardri,  and 
the  victory  would  be  assuredly  his  own.  His  rival 
was  only  a  boy,  and  Emile  knew  that  if  there  came 
the  struggle  between  male  and  male,  the  odds  were 
all  in  his  own  favour.  Arithelli  had  grown  into 
the  habit  of  obedience  to  him,  and  if  he  wished  it 
he  could  make  it  practically  impossible  for  her  to 
see  Vardri  without  his  knowledge  and  consent.  She 
would  sorrow  for  her  lover  at  first,  but  he  was  a 
man,  and  he  could  make  her  forget. 

A  thousand  little  devils  crowded  close,  whispering 
how  easy  it  would  be  to  get  Vardri  sent  out  of  the 
way.  A  few  words  to  Sobrenski,  and  the  whole 
thing  would  be  done. 

His  sense  of  justice  reminded  him  that  he  least 
of  all  people  had  a  right  to  grudge  her  a  few  hours 


THE  HIPPODROME  223 

of  happiness.  If  he  obliterated  himself  he  was 
only  making  her  a  deserved  reparation  for  some  of 
the  things  she  had  suffered.  Through  him  she  had 
joined  the  Anarchist  ranks,  and  through  him  she 
had  taken  vows  that  despoiled  her  of  the  hopes  and 
joys  of  womanhood,  and  transformed  her  into 
an  instrument  of  vengeance.  She  had  apparently 
never  realised  that  she  had  been  in  any  way  injured, 
for  she  had  never  blamed  him,  and  been  invariably 
grateful  for  anything  he  had  done  for  her  physical 
comfort. 

She  loved  Vardri,  or  imagined  that  she  did. 
Emile  told  himself  savagely  that  he  was  a  fool  who 
deserved  no  pity,  for  he  had  had  his  own  chance  and 
missed  it.  He  had  been  with  her  by  night  and  day, 
and  her  life  had  been  in  his  own  hands  all  these 
months,  but  he  had  never  made  love  to  her.  He 
had  only  bullied  her,  taught  her,  made  her  work, 
looked  after  her  clothes  and  food,  and,  he  knew  it 
now  too  late,  loved  her. 

She  had  never  suspected  it,  and  the  secret  should 
remain  his  own.  Love  and  love-making  were  two 
very  different  things.  She  did  not  know  that  now, 
but  later  on  she  would,  when  she  was  ten  years 
older,  perhaps,  and  then  it  would  not  matter  to  him, 
for  he  would  be  under  two  or  three  feet  of  snow  in 
a  Siberian  convict  settlement. 


224  THE  HIPPODROME 

He  had  gone  about  persuading  himself  that  she 
was  still  a  child,  and  this  Austrian  boy,  this  wastrel 
and  dreamer,  had  awakened  her. 

It  was  no  use  wasting  time  in  sentiment  and  re- 
grets. A  la  Guerre,  comme  &  la  Guerre.  The  epi- 
sode was  finished. 

He  would  have  work  enough  to  divert  his  mind 
soon.  There  was  nothing  left  to  him  now  but  the 
Cause. 

He  would  see  Sobrenski  to-morrow,  and  hurry 
on  all  arrangements  for  departure. 

After  all,  as  he  had  once  told  Arithelli,  in  any 
venture  it  is  only  the  first  step  that  counts. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"  Would  I  lose  you  now  ?    Would  I  take  you  then  ? 

If  I  lose  you  now  that  my  heart  has  need, 
And  come  what  may  after  death  to  men, 
What  thing  worth  this  will  the  dead  years  breed  ? " 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  TIME. 

THREE  days  later  the  early  morning  post  brought 
Arithelli  a  letter. 

She  sat  up  in  bed  eagerly  to  receive  it,  and  with 
the  heaviness  of  sleep  still  upon  her  eyes.  As  she 
read,  the  lace  at  her  throat  trembled  with  her  quick- 
ened breathing,  and  her  heart  called  back  an  answer 
to  the  tender,  reckless  phrases. 

Vardri  was  idealist  as  well  as  lover,  and  graceful 
turns  of  expression  came  to  his  pen  readily  and 
without  effort.  In  many  pages  of  characteristic, 
hurried,  irregular  writing  he  set  forth  wild  and 
unpractical  schemes  for  their  future. 

He  urged  her  to  take  the  dangerous  step  of  leav- 
ing Barcelona  and  cutting  herself  free  of  the  bonds 
of  her  allegiance  to  the  Cause. 

If  there  was  risk  in  going,  he  wrote,  there  was 
infinitely  more  risk  in  remaining. 

225 


226  THE  HIPPODROME 

If  he  abandoned  his  political  views  it  was  more 
than  likely  that  his  father  would  receive  him.  Their 
quarrel  and  parting  four  years  ago  had  been 
solely  on  those  grounds,  and  he  was  the  only  son, 
and  there  were  large  estates  to  be  inherited. 

If  it  were  the  price  of  gaining  her  he  was  pre- 
pared to  renounce  all  his  theories,  socialist  and 
revolutionist. 

He  had  been  able  to  save  a  little  money  lately, 
enough  for  their  journey  to  Austria.  He  was  sure 
of  a  welcome  among  the  officials  and  work-people 
of  his  former  home.  The  wife  of  the  steward  had 
been  his  mother's  maid,  and  she  and  her  husband 
would  give  him  shelter  till  he  could  see  his  father 
and  make  terms. 

If  things  turned  out  well  then  his  life  and  Ari- 
thelli's  would  be  one  long  fairy-tale,  which  should 
begin  where  all  other  fairy-tales  ended.  If  his 
father  refused  to  see  him  then  surely  they  could 
both  find  some  engagement  in  another  circus  or 
Hippodrome. 

She  had  the  advantage  of  the  reputation  she  had 
gained  here,  and  he  could  work  in  the  stables  again, 
and  they  would  be  free  and  together. 

Arithelli  kissed  the  letter,  before  she  put  it  down, 
and  lay  back  with  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  trying 
to  think.  She  had  begun  her  adventures  by  run- 


THE  HIPPODROME  227 

ning  away  from  home,  and  now  for  the  second  time 
her  only  course  was  flight.  Even  Emile  had  told 
her  not  to  waste  time  in  going.  For  her  it  seemed 
there  was  never  to  be  any  peace  or  rest. 

If  they  could  only  find  some  haven  away  from  all 
the  world,  she  thought.  A  forest  or  desert,  some 
unknown  spot  where  there  was  air  and  space  and 
natural  savage  beauty,  a  tent  to  dwell  in,  a  horse  to 
ride,  complete  freedom,  the  life  of  her  remote  an- 
cestors, simple,  dignified. 

Once  she  had  craved  for  change.  Now  she 
feared  it.  She  knew  what  Vardri  had  ignored,  that 
the  moment  they  both  left  Barcelona  they  would  be- 
come fugitives.  If  they  were  discovered  they 
would  be  treated  simply  as  deserters  from  the  ranks 
of  an  army. 

Instinctively  her  thoughts  turned  to  Emile.  It 
was  he  who  must  help  her  to  decide.  She  slid  out 
of  bed,  and  commenced  her  toilet,  while  she  recalled 
to  mind  the  things  that  must  be  got  through  during 
the  day.  There  was  a  manuscript  to  be  delivered 
to  Sobrenski,  an  article  of  Jean  Grave's  from  Les 
Temps  Nouveaux  which  she  had  copied  for  repro- 
duction. 

She  finished  dressing  her  hair,  and  pushed  the 
window  more  widely  open,  for  the  sound  of  music 
in  the  distance  had  caught  her  ear. 


228  THE  HIPPODROME 

Though  it  was  now  autumn,  and  in  England 
there  would  have  been  mist  and  gloom  and  fogs, 
here  the  sun  shone,  and  the  air  was  sweet  and 
mild. 

The  parching,  exhausting  heat  of  the  summer 
was  gone,  and  everything  smelt  fresh  and  clean, 
without  any  touch  of  winter  cold. 

Down  below  in  the  Calle  Catriona  the  music 
swelled  louder  and  higher  till  her  attic  room  was 
filled  with  the  dancing  notes. 

Along  the  pavement  two  men  walked  slowly  with 
guitar  and  flageolet. 

They  walked  turning  in  opposite  directions,  their 
heads  thrown  back,  their  feet  keeping  step,  two 
black-haired,  supple  vagabonds  of  gypsy  breed, 
who  had  come  down  to  the  city  from  their  mountain 
home  on  the  heights  of  Montserrat. 

The  guitar  twanged  merrily,  the  reed-like  notes 
of  the  flute  were  true  and  clear  as  the  song  of  a 
thrush.  The  melody  turned  and  climbed  and 
twisted,  rose  to  a  climax,  and  re-commenced  again 
the  same  phrase.  Arithelli  listened,  hypnotised 
and  bewitched,  as  she  always  was  by  music. 

Something  wild  and  primitive  in  her  responded 
to  the  shrill,  sweet,  insistent  call.  She  had  felt  like 
that  before,  listening  to  the  Tziganes  on  the  Rambla. 
and  it  was  as  if  the  heart  were  being  dragged  out 


THE  HIPPODROME  229 

of  her  body.  She  thought  of  the  childish  story 
of  the  Piper  of  Hamelin.  She  could  understand 
now  what  had  made  the  children  follow  him  with 
dancing  footsteps,  through  street  to  street,  on,  on 
from  dawn  till  dusk. 

The  guitar-player  glanced  up  in  passing  and 
mocked  her  with  laughing  eyes.  An  orange-col- 
oured scarf  left  his  brown  throat  exposed,  and 
there  were  gold  rings  in  his  ears.  She  kissed  her 
hand  and  called  down  greetings  in  Spanish,  and 
stood  at  the  window,  watching  and  listening  and 
longing  to  run  out  into  the  street  and  follow  as  the 
children  followed  through  the  town  of  Hamelin. 

All  the  joy  of  life  was  in  those  oft-repeated  and 
alluring  phrases,  the  fall  of  water,  the  hum  of  bees, 
the  shiver  of  aspen  leaves,  the  slow  music  of  a 
breaking  wave. 

She  strained  to  hear  the  last  faint  echoes  till  all 
sound  was  hidden  by  a  turn  of  the  road,  and  the 
brief  enchantment  was  at  an  end,  leaving  her  to 
the  realities  of  life. 

She  dressed  slowly,  singing  under  her  breath  as 
she  plaited  her  hair  before  Agnes  SoreTs  mirror. 
Before  she  left  the  room  she  thrust  the  loose  sheets 
of  Vardri's  letter  between  the  folds  of  her 
blouse,  leaving  the  envelope  lying  among  the  bed 
clothes. 


230  THE  HIPPODROME 

Late  in  the  afternoon  one  of  the  "  comrades  " 
brought  her  a  cipher  message,  warning  her  of  a 
meeting  arranged  to  take  place  in  the  "  Black  Hole  " 
up  in  the  hills. 

Half  an  hour  after  she  left  the  Hippodrome  she 
was  in  boy's  clothes  and  riding  out  to  the  rendez- 
vous to  wait  till  the  others  appeared.  She  had 
hoped  for  the  chance  of  a  talk  with  Emile,  but  to 
her  surprise  he  was  not  among  those  who  mustered 
outside  the  town.  She  had  never  known  him  to  be 
absent  from  a  meeting  before,  but  it  was  not  her 
business  to  ask  questions. 

While  the  rest  of  the  company  occupied  them- 
selves with  long  and  bloodthirsty  orations,  and 
hatched  fresh  schemes  for  the  destruction  of  their 
fellow-creatures,  and  the  regeneration  of  the  whole 
earth,  she  went  quietly  about  her  duties  as  stable 
boy. 

When  she  had  finished  she  set  the  lantern  at 
the  furthest  end  of  the  stable,  and  pulling  off  her 
hat  and  black  curly  wig  stretched  herself  wearily 
at  full  length  on  a  truss  of  hay  in  a  dark  corner 
among  the  tethered  horses.  The  ways  of  men  she 
had  begun  to  fear  and  hate,  but  of  the  beasts  she 
had  no  fear,  for  they  were  always  grateful  to  those 
who  cared  for  them,  and  they  also  had  suffered  at 
the  hands  of  their  masters. 


THE  HIPPODROME  231 

A  lethargy  had  taken  possession  of  her  whole 
body,  and  her  limbs  felt  heavily  weighted.  She 
closed  her  eyes  and  sank  inertly  into  the  bed  of  soft 
and  fragrant  hay. 

Her  loose  shirt  of  faded  dusky  red  had  fallen 
open  at  the  throat,  and  showed  the  dead-white  skin. 
Her  feet,  in  riding  boots  of  brown  leather,  were 
crossed  beneath  the  dark  drapery  of  her  cloak. 
A  leather  strap  served  as  a  belt  for  the  slender  hips 
that  were  more  like  those  of  a  boy  than  a  woman. 
The  horses  fidgeted  and  stamped,  and  a  mule 
dragged  at  its  halter  with  laid-back  ears  and  vicious 
sidelong  glances.  Sometimes  a  stirrup  or  a  bit 
clashed  against  another  with  a  musical  ring  and 
jingle. 

Arithelli  heard  nothing  till  she  awoke  to  find 
herself  in  Vardri's  arms,  and  being  lifted  into  a 
sitting  position  with  her  back  against  the  wall. 

In  answer  to  her  sleepy  murmur  of  surprise,  a 
hand  was  laid  over  her  mouth  with  a  whispered  — 
"  Gare  a  toi  petite!  ne  fais  pas  de  bruit" 

She  sat  up  fully  awake,  and  swept  the  veil  of  hair 
out  of  her  eyes. 

"Oh!  it's  you,  mon  ami!  Is  it  time  to  go?  I 
must  get  up  and  see  to  the  horses." 

But  he  held  her  kneeling  by  her  side. 

"  No,  no !     Lie  still,  dear.     There's  time  enough. 


232  THE  HIPPODROME 

Yes,  Sobrenski  is  still  talking.  Can't  you  hear 
him?  You  had  my  letter  safely?  " 

She  laid  her  hand  on  her  breast. 

"  It's  here." 

"Thank  you!  How  long  is  it  since  I've  seen 
you?  It  seems  like  a  century.  Those  brutes  up 
there  were  driving  me  mad  with  their  cold-blooded 
arrangements  for  wholesale  murder.  The  latest 
idea  is  to  explode  a  bomb  outside  one  of  the  big 
cafes  when  Alfonso  comes  here  next  week  to  inspect 
the  troops.  They  might  as  well  leave  him  alone. 
What  harm  has  he  done  them  ?  As  long  as  they  can 
see  people  flying  into  atoms  with  the  help  of  a  little 
nitroglycerine  they  are  quite  happy.  Vengeance, 
vengeance!  That  is  their  eternal  cry.  Of  course 
in  Russia  it's  a  different  thing.  One  must  either  be 
an  autocrat  and  slave-driver  or  a  Nihilist  out  there, 
but  here  —  they  are  mad,  all  of  them!  They  have 
just  settled  to  draw  lots  to-morrow  night.  I  won- 
der who  will  have  the  *  honour  '  of  becoming  execu- 
tioner? I  suppose  they  can't  do  it  to-night  because 
Poleski  isn't  here." 

Arithelli  shook  her  head. 

"  That  is  not  the  reason.  They  have  given 
Emile  other  work  to  do  in  Russia.  He  is  leaving 
here  very  soon.  I  thought  you  knew." 


THE  HIPPODROME  233 

"  Who  told  you  that  Poleski  is  going  away  ?  It 
may  not  be  true." 

"  Emile  himself.  Oh!  it's  true  enough.  I  don't 
know  when  he  will  go.  He  doesn't  know  himself, 
but  soon." 

".Will  you  trust  me  to  take  care  of  you  when 
Poleski  is  gone  ?  " 

"  I'll  trust  you  always." 

"  Promise  me  you'll  come  away  with  me.  If  you 
care  you'll  come.  I'll  give  up  the  Cause  for  your 
sake.  I've  told  you  so  in  my  letter  and  now  I  say 
it  again." 

"  So  I've  made  you  a  traitor.  Sobrenski  was 
right." 

"  My  sweet,  how  can  I  live  with  violence  and 
death  and  misery  since  I  have  known  you?  I  want 
to  get  away  from  men  and  back  to  Nature  to  be 
healed.  It  doesn't  follow  that  because  I  have  grown 
to  hate  some  of  the  revolutionist  methods  that  I 
am  against  all  their  theories.  I  believe  they  are 
right  in  sharing  things,  in  fighting  for  those  who 
are  trodden  down  by  the  rich,  but  you  and  I  can 
still  believe  all  that  without  becoming  inhuman. 
Think  of  Sobrenski.  He's  a  werewolf,  not  a  man ! 
Promise  me  that  you'll  come  soon.  Let  me  take 
you  away  before  they  make  you  one  of  their  '  an- 


234  THE  HIPPODROME 

gels  of  vengeance/  as  they  call  these  women  of 
the  revolution." 

Excitement  and  the  feverish  devil  of  consump- 
tion had  turned  his  blood  to  fire.  He  would  take  no 
denial,  pay  no  heed  to  Arithelli's  entreaties  for  time 
to  think,  and  to  consult  Emile. 

For  once  he  forgot  to  be  gentle,  and  dragged  her 
head  back  roughly,  whispering  passionate  words, 
his  face  pressed  against  her  own.  For  a  moment 
he  saw  no  longer  the  goddess  on  her  ivory  throne, 
but  a  woman  of  flesh  and  blood,  warm,  living,  and 
fragrant  and  to  be  desired  after  a  man's  fashion. 

Arithelli  closed  her  eyes  and  leant  back,  yielding 
herself  to  his  caresses.  The  pressure  of  his  hand 
across  her  throat  hurt  her,  but  in  some  strange  way 
it  also  gave  her  pleasure.  Love,  the  schoolmaster, 
again  stood  by  her  side  teaching  her  the  lesson 
learnt  sooner  or  later  by  all  women,  that  pain  at 
the  hands  of  one  beloved  is  a  thing  close  akin  to 
joy.  She  felt  incapable  of  any  struggle  or  resist- 
ance, bodily  or  mental.  She  had  given  her  heart 
therefore  her  body  was  also  his  to  use  as  he  willed, 
and  feeling  her  thus  abandoned  to  him  all  the  boy's 
chivalry  was  stirred  anew,  and  the  hunger  for  pos- 
session was  lost  in  the  desire  to  serve  and  pro- 
tect. 


THE  HIPPODROME  235 

Possibly  if  he  had  been  forty  instead  of  twenty- 
eight,  he  would  perhaps  have  demanded  a  man's 
rights.  Being,  however,  according  to  the  world's 
standard,  a  fool  and  a  dreamer,  he  chose  to  let  the 
moment  pass,  to  refuse  what  the  gods  offered,  to 
think  of  Arithelli  rather  than  of  himself. 

"  I'm  hurting  you,  dear."  His  voice  shook  a 
little,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  control  it. 

"  No.  Nothing  hurts  now.  And  I'm  glad 
you  love  me." 

"  I  hurt  you  a  minute  ago.  I  was  mad  and  a 
beast.  Will  you  forgive  me?  You  are  not  fright- 
ened?" 

"  No.  I  was  only  thinking  of  the  future  of  to- 
morrow." 

"  Let  us  forget  to-morrow,"  the  boy  pleaded. 
"  Can  you  not  forget  for  once  ?  " 

"  We  have  to-day,  and  each  other.  '  Aujourd'hui 
le  Printemps,  Ninon.'  It's  summer  for  us  now, 
Fatalite!  When  one  loves  there  is  always  sum- 
mer." 

He  drew  her  out  into  the  starlight  as  he  heard 
the  noise  of  the  men  pushing  back  their  seats  and 
moving  about  overhead. 

Several  voices  were  raised  in  angry  altercation. 

He  raged  inwardly  as  he  thought  how  in  a  few 
minutes  he  would  have  to  see  her  at  the  orders  of 


236  THE  HIPPODROME 

them  all,  sent  here  and  there,  at  everyone's  call,  and 
forced  to  work  without  either  thanks  or  reward. 

"  Let  me  go  in,  dear,"  Arithelli  said.  "  They 
will  expect  to  find  things  ready." 

But  Vardri  held  her  back. 

"  Let  them  expect !  Give  them  the  trouble  of 
looking  for  you.  They  keep  you  up  all  night,  so 
they  can  afford  to  waste  a  few  minutes  extra." 

It  was  both  a  foolish  and  useless  protest  and  Ari- 
thelli knew  that  she  would  pay  afterwards  for 
these  snatched  moments,  but  she  did  not  grudge  the 
price,  for  to  her  they  seemed  -worth  the  payment 
required. 

She  was  glad  of  the  air  too. 

She  turned  a  little  in  Vardri's  arms,  lifting  her 
face  to  the  soft  night  wind.  The  coolness  and  the 
dark  were  like  the  touch  of  a  soothing  hand. 

The  branches  of  the  tree  under  which  they  stood 
rustled  softly,  and  the  undergrowth  stirred  with 
the  startled  movements  of  some  awakened  bird  or 
small  animal. 

A  bat  flew  past,  almost  brushing  them  with  its 
velvet  wings.  From  the  marsh  lands  below  the 
dangerous  white  mist  hovered  like  a  fairy  veil. 

"I  love  the  night,"  Arithelli  whispered.  "It 
makes  me  want  to  do  all  sorts  of  things.  Do  you 
remember  the  story  of  Marguerite  of  France,  who 


THE  HIPPODROME  237 

heard  the  gypsies  singing  tinder  her  window  and 
leant  out  and  called  to  them  to  take  her  away.  I 
feel  like  that  Do  you  understand?" 

Vardri  drew  her  closer.  "  I  know,  my  heart. 
Tell  me  more." 

"  There  were  some  gypsies  singing  under  my  win- 
dow this  morning,"  Arithelli  went  on.  "  I  wished 
I  could  have  gone  out  and  followed  them  '  over  the 
hills  and  far  away '  like  the  children  in  the  old 
rhymes.  '  The  Irish  and  Jewish  people  have  always 
been  wanderers.  Perhaps  that  is  why  I  am  fated 
never  to  stay  long  in  one  place." 

He  answered  her  in  the  same  mood. 

"We'll  start  at  once,  shall  we,  Fatalite?  We'll 
saddle  two  of  the  horses  and  ride,  ride  day  and  night 
till  we  come  to  Montserrat,  and  there  we  shall  find 
your  gypsies  and  their  tribe.  When  you  come  to 
my  country  there'll  be  gypsies  too,  and  they  shall 
play  and  sing  for  you,  and  you'll  know  what  music 
is  for  the  first  time." 

"  How  foolish  we  are !  "  Her  eyes  were  wet,  but 
she  was  smiling.  "If  Emile  heard  me  talking  like 
this  he  would  be  so  angry." 

"  He  talked  like  this  once,"  Vardri  replied. 
"  Poleski  was  young  too  not  so  very  long  ago,  and 
he  loved  someone." 

"  Yes,  I  know."     She  found  it  almost  impossible 


238  THE  HIPPODROME 

to  think  of  Emile  as  a  lover  in  spite  of  the  photo- 
graph she  had  found,  and  the  words  in  his  own 
writing  upon  his  songs.  She  knew  them  by  heart. 
"  Emile  a  Marie.  Sans  toi  la  mort"  And  on  an- 
other, "  Etoilc  de  won  time!  Je  vous  adore  de  tout 
mon  coeur,  ton  Emile." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  memory  of  this  passion  of  his 
youth  that  had  made  him  kind  to  her. 

While  they  talked  and  lingered,  Sobrenski  was 
descending  the  rickety  ladder  that  served  as  a  stair- 
case. 

He  had  noticed  Vardri's  exit  from  the  room,  as 
he  noticed  everything  else.  All  the  other  men  had 
been  too  excited  to  care  whether  one  more  or  less 
was  there  or  not.  In  the  hot  argument  that  raged 
in  the  upper  room,  the  absence  of  one  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Brotherhood  was  apparently  forgotten. 

Their  leader,  however,  did  not  lose  his  head  or 
his  powers  of  observation  even  when  matters  of  life 
or  death  were  in  the  balance.  Whatever  he  did  was 
always  done  deliberately  and  in  cold  blood. 

All  the  time  he  had  been  apparently  presiding 
over  the  discussion  he  had  also  been  thinking 
rapidly. 

It  would  be  to  his  ultimate  advantage  not  to 
interfere  with  Arithelli  and  Vardri  just  now,  but  to 
let  them  be  together,  to  see  as  much  of  each  other 


THE  HIPPODROME  239 

as  possible.  It  was  as  well  that  Vardri  should  be- 
come thoroughly  infatuated,  as  then  he  would  be 
certain  to  take  some  step  that  would  bring  things 
to  a  crisis.  They  would  be  sure  to  try  to  escape 
out  of  the  country  and  hide  themselves  somewhere. 
They  would  not  be  the  first  people  who  had  tried 
that  sort  of  thing  before. 

In  the  course  of  his  life  he  had  known  others 
who  had  flung  the  Cause  and  their  vows  to  the 
winds  from  fear  or  passion  and  tried  to  hide  them- 
selves under  some  disguise. 

If  they  happened  to  be  clever  and  have  plenty  of 
money  their  escape  had  been  fairly  easy,  and  they 
had  even  been  safe  for  perhaps  a  year  or  so.  Then 
just  as  they  had  begun  to  feel  secure  and  had  grown 
careless,  the  vengeance  of  their  own  particular  circle 
had  overtaken  them.  There  had  been  accounts 
in  the  newspapers  of  a  mysterious  tragedy  to 
which  no  motive  could  be  assigned,  and  for 
which  no  one  could  be  brought  to  justice,  and  that 
was  all. 

They  were  all  monotonously  alike,  these  affairs! 

Sobrenski  had  said  little  to  anyone  else  of  his 
suspicions. 

No  need  to  declare  anyone  a  traitor  till  it  was 
proven.  Such  things  had  a  demoralising  effect,  and 
treachery  was  an  infectious  disease. 


240  THE  HIPPODROME 

He  descended  the  uneven  rungs  of  the  ladder, 
treading  soft-footed  as  a  cat. 

There  was  no  noise  of  talking,  so  of  course  she 
was  asleep.  Sacre,  these  lazy  women!  So  she 
could  not  keep  awake  even  for  a  lover ! 

The  place  was  dark  except  for  the  glimmering 
light  at  the  far  end,  and  he  was  obliged  to  feel  his 
"way  to  avoid  the  mules,  who  had  an  evil  trick  of 
lashing  out  with  their  heels  at  anything  in  the 
vicinity. 

At  the  foot  of  the  steps  he  trod  on  a  riding  whip, 
which  he  recognised  as  one  belonging  to  Vardri. 

In  the  dim  circle  of  light  cast  by  the  smoky  lamp 
there  was  only  a  truss  of  hay  disordered  as  if  some- 
one had  lain  upon  it,  and  the  manta  and  other  things 
belonging  to  Arithelli. 

There  was  one  thing  more,  a  sheet  of  paper  cov- 
ered closely  with  an  untidy  scrawl. 

The  lynx  eyes  flashed,  and  Sobrenski  bent  eagerly 
forward. 

Bad  as  the  light  was  it  had  not  taken  him  long  to 
recognise  the  writing. 

He  held  it  close  to  the  lamp,  and  smiled  with 
satisfaction. 

Nothing  could  be  better  from  his  point  of  view. 
In  the  first  sentence  there  was  all,  even  more,  than 
he  wanted. 


THE  HIPPODROME  241 

He  smoothed  it  out  between  his  pointed  fingers, 
folded  it,  and  bestowed  it  carefully  in  an  inside 
pocket. 

It  was  just  the  kind  of  thing  he  would  have  ex- 
pected from  a  girl  of  Arithelli's  type, —  to  go  about 
dropping  letters.  She  had  not  method  enough  even 
to  put  on  her  clothes  decently;  they  always  looked 
as  if  they  were  falling  off,  and  her  hair  as  if  it 
was  coming  down. 

Sapristi!  A  fine  agent  for  the  Cause!  and  one 
fit  to  be  trusted  with  important  documents. 

Poleski  must  have  been  quite  mad  when  he  sug- 
gested introducing  her  to  the  Brotherhood,  and  he 
himself  deserved  even  more  blame  for  having  as 
much  as  listened  to  the  suggestion. 

A  girl  of  that  age,  picked  up  from  nowhere,  and 
like  the  rest  of  her  sex  a  mass  of  lies  and  vanity. 

He  held  the  lantern  above  his  head,  and  peered 
round.  Surely  they  had  not  been  so  utterly  insane 
as  to  have  attempted  to  escape  to-night?  All  the 
horses  and  mules  were  there  safe  enough,  and  ob- 
viously they  would  not  attempt  to  walk. 

He  strode  towards  the  door,  meeting  them  on  the 
threshold,  and  in  spite  of  himself  could  not  help 
being  impressed  by  the  uncanny  likeness  between 
the  two,  in  form  and  outline. 

They  had  even  the  same  trick  of  movement. 


242  THE  HIPPODROME 

The  thought  of  what  he  had  found  made  him  feel 
almost  good-humoured,  although  he  took  good  care 
that  no  one  else  should  benefit  by  this  unusual  mood. 

"  You  have  found  yourself  a  little  distraction, 
hein?  "  he  said,  ignoring  Arithelli's  presence.  "  We 
are  not  up  here  for  amusement  all  the  same. 
There's  nothing  done.  I  supposed  you  had  come 
down  to  see  to  the  horses." 

Vardri  strolled  across  to  a  rack,  and  took  down 
an  armful  of  saddles  and  stirrups. 

"  I  have,"  he  answered  laconically.  "  They'll  be 
ready  in  five  minutes." 

Sobrenski  turned  to  the  girl,  and  spoke  to  her  in 
an  undertone.  "  What  are  you  wasting  time  for  ? 
See  to  your  work."  Vardri  raised  his  head  from 
the  adjustment  of  a  girth. 

"  I'm  doing  Mademoiselle  Arithelli's  work. 
There  is  no  need  for  her  to  trouble."  His  accents 
possessed  both  dignity  and  command.  For  an  in- 
stant their  positions  were  reversed.  The  leader 
smothered  an  oath ;  but  said  no  more.  He  reflected 
that  he  could  well  afford  to  wait  for  his  revenge. 
The  game  was  absolutely  in  his  own  hands  if  only 
they  had  known  it. 

He  could  see  that  they  were  both  perfectly  un- 
conscious of  the  fact  that  they  had  lost  anything. 


THE  HIPPODROME  243 

When  they  discovered  they  would  most  likely 
conclude  it  had  happened  during  the  ride  up. 

When  Arithelli  had  dragged  herself  up  into  her 
bedroom  the  sky  was  lighting  with  the  dawn. 
They  had  mistaken  the  road  and  gone  a  mile  or 
two  out  of  the  way,  and  one  of  the  men  had  been 
thrown  off  and  twisted  his  ankle,  and  made  another 
halt  and  delay.  She  drew  the  curtains  closely  and 
lay  down  without  undressing. 

Before  she  slept  she  put  her  hand  into  her  breast, 
and  felt  the  rustle  of  the  thin  paper  on  which 
Vardri's  letter  had  been  written. 

It  was  not  until  the  landlady  had  nearly  battered 
down  her  door  that  she  stirred  four  hours  later,  and 
then  she  unfastened  her  blouse  and  drew  out  instead 
of  the  original  two  sheets,  only  one. 

She  did  not  feel  particularly  alarmed;  supposing 
it  had  been  put  with  the  envelope  that  she  had  left 
about  in  the  morning.  Her  things  so  often  got  lost, 
and  it  was  Emile  who  generally  found  them. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"  Must  a  man  have  hope  to  fight  ? 
Can  a  man  not  fight  in  despair  ?  " 

"A  Polish  Insurgent,"  JAMES  THOMPSON. 

How  he  lived  through  his  last  day  in  Barcelona 
Emile  never  quite  knew.  A  strong  will,  strong  to- 
bacco, and  plenty  of  work  were  all  aids  in  helping 
him  to  preserve  his  sanity. 

He  soon  arranged  things  with  Sobrenski,  and 
found  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  the  post  of  messen- 
ger in  the  St.  Petersburg  affair. 

He  walked  to  the  Hippodrome  while  the  matinee 
performance  was  in  progress,  and  left  a  message 
for  Arithelli  at  the  stage  door. 

Then  he  went  back  to  his  rooms  in  the  Calle  San 
Antonio,  and  began  to  make  the  few  necessary 
preparations  for  departure.  He  was  not  encum- 
bered with  worldly  goods,  and  his  wardrobe  was  not 
extensive,  so  there  remained  only  to  look  through 
and  destroy  all  documents,  books,  or  letters  that 
could  not  be  carried  about  or  that  might  involve  the 
safety  of  others. 

244 


THE  HIPPODROME  245 

Certain  songs  and  pieces  of  music  he  put  together 
in  a  pile,  the  rest  he  tore  across  and  threw  into  a 
corner.  He  would  have  no  need  of  these  amuse- 
ments now.  Cultivation  of  the  fine  arts  is  not  en- 
couraged in  the  political  prisons. 

At  five  o'clock  Arithelli  entered  the  room,  her 
clothes  put  on  carelessly,  the  grey  pallor  of  intense 
weariness  upon  her  face.  She  had  been  working 
early  and  late  during  the  past  two  days,  and  the 
thought  of  the  missing  letter  worried  her  from  time 
to  time.  Sometimes  she  felt  almost  certain  that  she 
had  dropped  it  in  changing  from  her  circus  clothes, 
and  that  it  had  been  appropriated  out  of  curiosity 
by  one  of  the  women  who  shared  the  dressing-room. 
As  it  was  written  in  English,  they  would  probably 
throw  it  away  at  once  in  disgust,  annoyed  at 
being  deprived  of  the  excitement  of  a  romance  or 
scandal. 

She  knew  it  would  be  useless  to  make  enquiries. 
If  it  had  been  left  there  it  had  been  done  late  at 
night,  and  the  dressing-rooms  were  always  cleaned 
early  next  morning,  and  it  would  have  been  swept 
away  with  the  other  rubbish. 

She  had  not  said  anything  about  her  loss  to 
Vardri.  It  would  make  him  even  more  anxious 
than  herself,  and  she  must  bear  the  penalty  of  her 
own  carelessness. 


246  THE  HIPPODROME 

She  hoped  that  after  all  it  would  come  to  light 
in  some  box  or  drawer  among  her  clothes. 

She  came  forward  noiselessly  across  the  polished, 
carpetless  floor. 

"  Bon  jour,  Emile !     You  wanted  me  ?  " 

He  pointed  to  a  chair. 

"  Sit  down !  Your  hat  is  on  crooked  —  as  usual ! 
Are  you  so  little  of  a  woman  that  you  never  use  a 
mirror  ?  " 

A  gleam  of  fun  lit  up  her  eyes. 

"  You  covered  mine  up  the  other  night  with  that 
horrible  wreath  and  streamers.  I  can  only  see  my- 
self in  little  bits  now." 

"  Well,  sit  down  and  I'll  talk  to  you  presently." 

Emile  returned  to  the  sorting  and  destruction  of 
his  correspondence,  and  Arithelli  lay  back  in  her 
chair  with  a  sigh  of  content,  and  closed  her  eyes. 
When  she  opened  them  again  he  was  standing  be- 
side her  with  a  glass  of  red  wine  in  his  hand. 

"  Drink  this,"  he  said,  giving  it  to  her. 

"  It  isn't  absinthe,  is  it  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  can't 
see  in  this  light,  and  I  don't  want  — " 

"  It  doesn't  matter  what  it  is  or  what  you  want. 
Don't  argue,  but  finish  it.  How  fond  you  women 
are  of  talking !  "  He  waited  till  she  had  obeyed  him. 

"  You  see  that  music  ?  Well,  you  can  take  it 
back  with  you.  I  shall  not  have  any  more  use  for 


THE  HIPPODROME  247 

music  when  I  leave  here.  And  listen  to  me  now, 
and  don't  go  to  sleep  for  the  next  five  minutes  if 
you  can  help  it." 

He  kept  full  control  of  himself  and  his  feelings. 
If  anything  his  voice  was  a  little  more  rasping  than 
usual,  and  his  dry  words  of  counsel  and  advice  were 
spoken  in  his  ordinary  hard,  practical  manner.  An 
outsider  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  say  which 
was  the  more  indifferent  in  appearance  of  these  two 
who  had  been  so  strangely  intimate  for  half  a  year, 
and  who  were  now  about  to  part. 

The  girl  was  apathetic  from  physical  fatigue  and 
past  emotions. 

She  thought  as  she  looked  round  the  familiar 
room  how  impossible  it  was  to  believe  that  she 
would  never  be  there  again  after  to-day,  and  that 
Emile  would  never  again  come  to  her. 

The  wine  cleared  her  brain  and  made  her  blood 
run  more  quickly.  She  roused  herself  to  listen  to 
what  Emile  was  saying,  and  to  answer  the  questions 
he  was  asking  her  about  her  own  arrangements. 
She  thought  he  seemed  relieved  when  she  told  him 
of  Vardri's  scheme,  and  she  restrained  a  strong 
desire  to  tell  him  also  about  the  missing  letter. 

He  gave  her  an  address  in  the  Russian  capital  to 
which  she  could  write  during  the  next  month,  warn- 
ing her  at  the  same  time  to  be  careful  in  what  she 


24$  THE  HIPPODROME 

said,  to  mention  no  names,  and  to  avoid  all  refer- 
ences to  politics,  as  his  correspondence  would  run 
the  risk  of  being  edited  by  the  police.  Inside  the 
envelope  on  which  the  address  was  written  he  had 
enclosed  forty  francs. 

"  You'll  probably  find  a  little  money  useful  one  of 
these  days,"  he  said.  "  Keep  it  till  you  really  want 
it.  You  can't  wear  more  than  one  pair  of  boots  at 
once,  and  there  are  other  things  more  important. 
I  don't  want  you  to  thank  me.  You  can  go  and 
sing  something  instead,  and  do  your  best  as  it's  for 
the  last  time." 

Arithelli  rose  at  once  and  went  to  the  piano,  eager 
to  do  something  that  might  give  him  pleasure. 

She  could  play  for  herself  now.  Emile  had  suc- 
ceeded in  teaching  her  a  few  easy  accompaniments, 
so  that  he  could  listen  without  distraction. 

She  hesitated  for  a  minute,  turning  over  his  big 
music  book,  and  then  chose  the  popular  song  of  the 
cafe-chantants  and  streets,  the  famous  "La  Co- 
lombe  "  with  its  lilting  time,  and  mingled  gaiety  and 
sorrow.  One  heard  it  everywhere,  sung  in  Spanish, 
in  the  local  patois,  and  in  French,  by  artistes  in  the 
theatres,  by  factory  girls,  and  sailors,  and  market 
people.  The  gamins  and  beggars  whistled  and 
hummed  it  in  the  streets  and  squares. 

Emile   walked   up  and   down   the   room   as   he 


THE  HIPPODROME 

listened.  He  had  made  her  sing  in  the  hope  of 
lessening  in  a  small  degree  the  strain  he  was  endur- 
ing, but  what  had  possessed  her  to  choose  this  song 
of  all  others?  The  words  told  of  one  who  was 
about  to  set  sail,  and  lingered  bidding  adieu  to  his 
Nina,  the  woman  he  loved. 

"  Le  four  ou  quittant  la  terre  pour  V  ocean, 
Je  dis,  priez  Dieu,  pries  Dieu  pour  -votre  enfant. 
Avant  que  nous  mettre  en  route  je  cms  revoir, 
Nina!  qui  pleurait  sans  doute  de  desespoir." 

One  could  hear  the  rocking  of  the  boat  at  anchor, 
the  rippling  of  the  out-going  tide. 

In  the  second  verse  the  time  was  changed,  the 
words  were  hurried  and  insistent. 

"Nina!  si  je  succombe,  et  qu'un  beau  soir, 
Une  blanche  colombe  vient  te  vovr, 
Ouvre-lui  ta  fenetre  car  ce  sera, 
Mon  ame  qui  peut-etre  te  reviendra" 

Her  voice  had  grown  weaker  since  her  illness, 
and  she  sang  with  visible  exertion  and  faulty  breath- 
ing, but  it  was  still  the  golden  voice  of  the  Israel- 
itish  woman,  and  there  was  the  same  timbre  that 
had  attracted  him,  and  made  him  speak  to  her  that 
afternoon  in  May  at  the  station. 

And  all  that  had  only  happened  six  months  ago! 
When  she  had  finished  he  said  nothing  in  approval, 


250  THE  HIPPODROME 

but  he  asked  her  to  sing  again,  and  she  understood, 
and  was  pleased. 

"  You  may  thank  the  Fates  for  having  given  you 
a  voice,"  he  told  her.  "  It's  better  than  a  face.  It 
lasts  longer.  No  man  having  once  heard  you  would 
listen  to  another  woman." 

It  was  the  first  compliment  he  had  ever  made  her, 
but  Arithelli  did  not  answer.  Her  back  was  turned 
towards  him  as  she  gathered  together  the  music. 

He  could  see  that  her  whole  body  was  trembling 
with  repressed  sobs.  If  he  could  only  have  been 
sure  they  were  for  him,  he  would  have  taken  her  in 
his  arms.  She  was  sorry  he  was  going,  perhaps,  in 
a  way,  but  not  in  the  way  he  wanted.  She  had 
become  dependent  upon  him,  and  he  had  filled  a 
certain  place  in  her  life.  If  she  made  a  scene  it 
was  entirely  his  own  fault.  Farewells  were  always 
a  mistake,  and  he  had  been  foolish  enough  to  allow 
her  to  sing  sentimental  verses  about  doves  and  peo- 
ple's wandering  souls.  She  was  over-tired  and 
over-wrought,  and  a  woman's  tears  were  more 
often  due  to  physical  than  to  mental  reasons.  So 
he  argued,  trying  to  convince  himself,  yet  knowing 
all  the  time  that  Arithelli  was  not  one  of  the  women 
whose  emotions  are  on  the  surface. 

Once  before  he  had  seen  her  cry,  and  now  as  then 
he  stood  apart.  It  was  for  Vardri  to  dry  her  tears. 


THE  HIPPODROME  251 

He  glanced  at  the  clock.  Of  course  it  was 
wrong,  but  he  knew  by  the  shadows  that  filled  the 
room  that  it  must  be  time  for  her  to  leave  if  she 
was  to  appear  in  public  again  to-night. 

He  must  hurry  the  interview  to  a  close,  for  he 
could  not  play  his  part  much  longer. 

"  You  ought  to  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  me,  Arithelli. 
Vous  avcs  la  chance!     What  have  I  given  you  but' 
•work  and  grumbles,  eh?  " 

The  soft,  broken  voice  answered  him : 

"  I  shall  feel  afraid  without  you." 

"  You  will  have  Vardri, —  your  lover."  His  tone 
was  brutal  as  the  blow  of  a  knife.  The  natural  ani- 
mal jealousy  of  a  man  had  risen  in  him  again. 
When  he  was  between  stone  walls,  she  would  have 
the  warmth  of  a  lover's  arms;  every  nerve  in  his 
own  body  would  know  it,  and  long  for  that  which 
he  had  himself  resigned. 

He  would  have  long  hours  to  sit  and  think  the 
thoughts  that  drive  men  to  insanity  or  self-destruc- 
tion. 

"  Yes,  but  one  can  care  in  different  ways,  and  you 
have  done  so  many  things  for  me." 

The  man  drew  in  his  breath  sharply.  The  knife 
was  in  her  hand  now,  but  she  had  stabbed  uncon- 
sciously. He  knew  that  she  spoke  quite  simply, 
thinking  only  of  his  care  for  her  physical  well-being. 


252  THE  HIPPODROME 

Truly  he  had  done  things,  things  that  he  would 
have  given  several  years  of  life  to  undo. 

Now  he  had  that  for  which  he  craved, —  the  as- 
surance that  she  cared,  that  she  would  miss  him. 
Still  he  did  not  delude  himself.  He  knew  that  what 
she  felt  towards  him  was  not  the  love  between  a 
woman  and  her  mate,  but  the  affection  of  depend- 
ence, of  habit.  Yet  for  such  as  it  was  his  soul 
uttered  thanksgiving.  Any  other  woman  gifted 
with  a  less  sweet  nature  would  have  felt  for  him 
nothing  but  hatred,  but  in  Fatalite's  mind  neither 
spite  nor  malice  ever  found  a  place.  The  petty 
vices  of  womankind  had  never  been  hers.  He 
knew  now  that  he  had  been  something  to  her,  and 
that  knowledge  would  make  sunshine  for  him  even 
in  the  shadow  of  a  prison.  It  gave  him  courage 
also  to  play  out  the  tragi-comedy  to  the  end,  to 
make  a  brave  jest,  to  lie  convincingly. 

"  We  needn't  make  each  other  eternal  adieux, 
mon  enfant.  You  must  not  take  all  I  said  about 
Siberian  dungeons  au  serieux.  Russia  isn't  quite 
as  dangerous  as  it's  made  out  to  be.  Of  course  the 
police  keep  a  watch  more  or  less  on  the  "  suspects," 
but  we  know  all  their  tricks,  and  how  to  avoid  them. 
Plenty  of  us  go  to  St.  Petersburg  and  even  to  Kara 
and  come  back  again.  The  Schlusselburg  fortress 
is  about  the  only  place  we  haven't  succeeded  in  get- 


THE  HIPPODROME  253 

ting  out  of  yet.  It's  fairly  easy  to  manage  a  false 
passport.  You  can  write  to  me  at  the  address 
I've  given  you." 

It  was  all  over  now,  and  he  was  alone.  He  had 
taken  both  her  hands  for  an  instant,  and  felt  the 
convulsive  clinging  of  the  thin  fingers.  He  had 
longed  to  kiss  them,  but  dared  not  trust  himself. 
His  words  were  only  such  as  might  have  been  used 
by  anyone  of  the  Brotherhood. 

"  Au  revoir,  camarade!  " 

"  Au  revoir!" 

Her  tears  were  falling  still,  though  she  answered 
him  steadily  enough. 

Then  she  turned  away,  pulling  down  her  veil,  and 
he  saw  her  grope  blindly  for  the  fastening  of  the 
door.  It  shut  gently  behind  her,  and  he  was  alone. 
He  sat  down  by  the  table  with  its  litter  of  books 
and  newspapers,  and  stared  dully  round  the  room 
which  her  passing  had  left  more  hopeless  and  ugly 
than  ever. 

Life  itself  would  be  more  fade  and  ugly  now. 
As  well  for  him  that  after  to-day  he  would  have  no 
time  to  sit  and  brood.  It  would  be  all  stern  reality 
soon,  enough  to  cure  him  of  lovesickness. 

First  the  work  and  risks  of  a  secret  printing  press 
in  some  cellar  or  sordid  room  behind  a  shop,  and 


254  THE  HIPPODROME 

later  on  the  inevitable  police-raid,  a  trial  that  would 
be  no  trial  with  the  condemnation  signed  before- 
hand, and  afterwards  the  travaux  -forces,  the  long 
marches,  the  agonies  of  farewell  at  the  Siberian 
boundary-post  —  not  for  him,  for  his  were  said,  but 
for  his  companions  in  misery  —  the  miseries  of  the 
sick  and  dying,  the  partial  starvation,  and  the  hor- 
rors of  dirt  and  vermin.  There  were  sure  to  be 
some  women  too  among  the  "  politicals,"  and  he 
would  be  obliged  to  watch  their  sufferings. 

There  would  be  no  imaginary  grievances  in  that 
life  at  all  events. 

On  the  floor,  as  it  had  dropped  from  among  the 
music  there  lay  a  photograph,  face  downwards. 

He  picked  it  up  and  looked  back  at  the  childish, 
smiling  face,  the  tiny,  rounded  figure  of  Marie 
Roumanoff. 

"  Tout  passe,  tout  casse,  tout  lasse." 

His  mouth  twisted  into  a  cynical  smile.  She  had 
been  a  true  prophetess  when  she  had  written  that. 

He  tore  the  picture  across,  and  threw  it  upon  the 
rest  of  the  debris. 

The  Roumanoff  would  never  haunt  his  dreams 
again. 

Her  portrait  was  easily  destroyed.  A  flimsy 
thing  of  print  and  paper,  as  slight  and  fragile  as 
herself. 


THE  HIPPODROME  255 

Of  Arithelli  he  possessed  no  tangible  likeness,  but 
he  would  have  her  always  with  him,  for  her  image 
was  seared  deep  upon  both  heart  and  brain. 

The  Witch  sailed  out  of  Barcelona  harbour 
with  the  early  morning  tide.  Besides  Emile  and 
Vladimir,  and  a  small  picked  crew,  she  carried  an 
assortment  of  strangely-shaped  machines,  things 
that  looked  like  the  inside  of  a  clock,  and  were  full 
of  wheels  and  cogs,  firearms,  and  ammunition,  some 
copies  of  a  revolutionist  manual  on  street  fighting 
tactics,  and  other  inflammatory  literature. 

Their  plan  was  to  enter  Russia  by  way  of  Fin- 
land, leaving  all  the  things  there  to  be  smuggled 
through  by  degrees. 

When  they  came  to  the  frontier  they  would  part 
company.  Emile  would  make  his  way  towards  the 
city  that  holds  its  trembling  autocrat  as  closely 
guarded  in  his  palace  as  any  convict  in  the  mines, 
while  Vladimir  was  to  go  back  to  Spain  overland 
to  report  success  or  failure  in  the  landing  and  dis- 
posal of  their  dangerous  cargo. 

All  day  the  two  men  sat  together,  talking,  plot- 
ting, preparing  for  all  contingencies. 

There  were  no  feminine  voices  to  be  heard  on 
board  the  yacht  now,  no  singing  on  deck  in  the 
evenings,  no  hint  of  the  presence  of  a  woman, 
either  as  wife,  mistress,  or  companion. 


256  THE  HIPPODROME 

They  neither  discussed  nor  recalled  these  van- 
ished days,  though  one  had  hours  of  memory  and 
regret,  and  the  other  was  consumed  with  a  savage 
hunger  for  that  which  he  had  lost. 

Both  had  taken  upon  themselves  vows  that  put 
them  outside  the  pale  of  human  ties  and  affections. 

The  Goddess  whom  they  both  served  had  risen, 
claiming  their  allegiance,  their  service,  and  with  the 
lives  and  Ways  of  mortal  women  they  had  no  con- 
cern. The  Cause  had  triumphed. 


CHAPTER  XX 

"  Do  you  not  know  I  am  a  woman  ?  " 

As  You  LIKE  IT. 
/ 

SOBRENSKI  was  a  man  who  wasted  no  time  in  mak- 
ing up  his  mind.  His  success  as  a  leader  had  de- 
pended upon  his  swiftness  of  action  and  unscrupu- 
lousness,  and  his  latest  manoeuvres  had  turned  out 
an  admirable  success,  upon  which  he  might  safely 
congratulate  himself. 

The  day  following  the  resolution  of  the  Com- 
mittee, he  had  written  to  Arithelli,  telling  her  to 
come  to  his  flat  to  receive  instructions.  She  would 
arrive  in  due  time,  and  then  he  would  explain 
things. 

He  wondered  whether  she  would  faint  or  scream 
or  perhaps  refuse,  but  probably  she  would  be  easier 
to  manage  now  that  Poleski  was  safely  out  of  the 
way.  He  had  schemed  that  business  well  too,  and 
could  now  spare  all  his  attention  for  Vardri  and  the 
girl. 

As  to  the  amount  of  work  they  both  did,  they 
would  be  no  great  loss,  for  he  could  easily  supply 

257 


258  THE  HIPPODROME 

their  places  by  other  human  machines  who  would 
carry  out  his  desires  without  question.  The  ma- 
jority of  the  men  who  composed  the  circle  were 
completely  dominated  by  him,  and  incapable  of  op- 
posing his  will  or  argument,  and  by  some  he  \vas 
worshipped  as  a  hero.  Callous  of  suffering  in 
others,  he  was  equally  indifferent  to  it  for  himself, 
and  if  he  did  not  spare  his  tools  he  also  slaved  in- 
cessantly day  and  night. 

The  large  bare  room  in  which  he  sat  possessed 
very  little  furniture  and  no  signs  of  comfort. 
There  were  a  quantity  of  books  piled  on  the  floor 
and  mantelpiece,  and  the  centre  space  was  filled  by 
an  enormous  bureau  heaped  with  a  mass  of  printed 
and  written  papers,  for  besides  his  extensive  corre- 
spondence he  was  part-editor  of  one  of  the  An- 
archist journals,  which  he  enlivened  by  daring  and 
sarcastic  contributions.  The  fragment  of  the  letter 
that  Arithelli  had  dropped,  lay  open  in  front  of 
him.  He  read  it  through  again  and  smiled  to  him- 
self. 

"  I'll  give  up  even  the  Cause  for  your  sake,"  Var- 
dri  had  written.  "  Seeing  how  these  men  have  made 
you  suffer  has  changed  my  views.  There  must  be 
something  wrong  about  our  ideas  if  they  produce 
this  cruelty  to  women.  Sobrenski  and  the  others 
are  killing  you  slowly.  I  wanted  struggle  and  ex- 


THE  HIPPODROME  259 

citement  at  one  time,  and  whether  it  meant  Life  or 
Death  it  was  all  the  same.  There  was  no  one  to 
care.  Now  I  want  Life  and  Love  and  You! " 

Another  madman  like  Gaston  de  Barres!  How 
alike  all  these  effusions  were,  all  in  the  same  strain. 
They  had  found  a  pile  of  ravings  when  they  had 
searched  among  the  property  of  the  heroine  of  that 
affair.  These  were  the  people  who  did  an  incred- 
ible amount  of  harm,  who  were  even  more  danger- 
ous than  the  ordinary  traitor. 

He  pushed  the  letter  underneath  some  others, 
and  Arithelli  had  knocked  more  than  once,  before 
he  called  "  Entreat " 

He  saluted  her  with  a  cold  scrutiny,  telling  her  to 
wait  till  he  had  finished.  He  invariably  made  a 
point  of  using  no  title  in  addressing  her,  and  never 
even  gave  her  the  customary  Anarchist  greeting  of 
camarade.  He  did  not  invite  her  to  sit  down,  and 
she  would  have  been  surprised  if  he  had  done  so. 
There  was  another  chair  at  the  far  end  of  the  room, 
and  she  did  not  trouble  to  fetch  it.  Her  heart  was 
still  further  weakened  by  her  illness,  and  she  was 
breathless  after  climbing  two  long  flights  of  stairs. 
She  leant  up  against  the  wall,  breathing  quickly, 
and  thankful  for  a  few  moments'  respite. 

She  supposed  she  was  required  to  play  "  errand- 
boy  "  as  usual,  and  to  go  through  the  well-known 


260  THE  HIPPODROME 

routine:  A  crumpled-up  slip  of  paper,  which  she 
must  hide  in  her  hair  or  dress,  a  long  walk,  or  a 
ride  in  the  electric  tram  if  she  happened  to  have  any 
money,  and  then  perhaps  at  the  end  of  it  she  would 
find  the  man  for  whom  she  was  seeking  absent, 
and  then  she  would  have  to  wait  till  he  returned. 
It  was  never  safe  to  leave  a  message.  Everything 
had  to  be  given  directly  into  the  hands  of  those  for 
whom  it  was  intended,  and  she  had  spent  many 
weary  hours  in  the  rooms  of  Sobrenski's  followers. 

She  studied  his  face  as  he  rapidly  stamped  his 
letters,  flinging  them  on  to  a  pile  of  others  that  lay 
ready.  It  crossed  her  mind  how  Emile  had  once 
likened  a  certain  group  of  the  conspirators  to  a 
pack  of  court  cards,  saying  that  they  were  alter- 
nately red  and  black. 

Sobrenski's  hair  and  small  peaked  beard  were  of 
a  curiously  unpleasant  colour,  and  his  thin  lips, 
pointed  teeth  and  long  sloping  jaw  gave  him  a  wolf- 
ish appearance.  His  eyes,  deep-set  and  narrow, 
were  too  close  together  to  satisfy  a  student  of 
Lavater  as  to  his  capacity  for  truthfulness.  The 
forehead  alone  was  good,  and  showed  reasoning 
and  intellect.  He  was  about  fifty,  and  like  all  fair 
men  looked  less  than  his  age.  He  was  better 
dressed,  and  altogether  more  careful  of  his  appear- 
ance than  most  of  the  other  men,  though  he  spent 


THE  HIPPODROME  261 

nothing  on  luxuries  and  never  touched  the  absinthe, 
to  which  most  of  them  were  addicted.  The  sole 
luxuries  in  which  he  indulged  were  Work  and 
Power. 

"  Probably  you  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  talk 
about  spies  lately,"  he  began,  addressing  Arithelli 
in  French.  "  For  some  time  I  have  suspected  one 
of  our  own  number  of  treachery.  However,  one 
cannot  condemn  without  proofs.  For  these  I  have 
been  waiting  and  they  have  now  come  into  my 
hands.  I'm  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  man  I  have 
all  along  suspected  is  a  traitor,  and  there  is  no  need 
to  delay  action  any  longer.  I  suppose  Poleski  has 
informed  you  of  how  we  treat  those  who  are  un- 
wise enough  to  betray  us?  " 

"  Yes." 

She  was  on  her  guard  now,  and  stood  upright,  all 
her  languor  gone.  Why  could  he  not  say  what  he 
meant  at  once?  She  wondered  why  he  had  taken 
the  trouble  to  seek  for  proofs  of  anyone's  guilt. 
Enough  for  a  man  of  his  type  to  find  an  obstruction 
in  his  path.  He  would  need  no  authority  but  his 
own  for  removing  it.  She  hated  him  all  the  more 
for  his  parade  of  justice.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
her  that  his  speech  was  a  prelude  to  anything  that 
concerned  Vardri.  If  anyone  was  implied  she  im- 
agined it  was  herself.  These  men  were  never 


262  THE  HIPPODROME 

happy  unless  they  were  suspecting  evil  of  someone. 
The  Anarchist  leader,  found  in  her  incomprehension 
merely  another  sign  of  feminine  stupidity.  Her 
outward  air  of  indifference  was  as  irritating  to  him 
as  it  had  been  to  the  Hippodrome  Manager.  So- 
brenski's  blood  had  never  stirred  for  any  woman, 
however  charming,  and  Arithelli's  type  of  looks 
was  repulsive  to  him.  He  loathed  her  thinness  and 
pallor,  her  silence  and  immobility  of  expression. 
He  vowed  inwardly  that  she  should  look  less  indif- 
ferent before  he  had  finished  with  her. 

"  You  do  not  appear  to  have  the  least  idea  of  the 
identity  of  the  man  to  whom  I  am  referring,"  he 
continued.  "  Your  friend  Vardri  is  not  a  very 
careful  person.  He  is  young,  and  shall  we  say,  a 
little  foolish.  It  is  always  risky  to  say  or  write 
anything  against  the  Cause  one  is  supposed  to  be 
serving." 

"  To  say  or  write."  It  dawned  upon  her  all  at 
once.  The  piece  of  the  letter  she  had  missed,  had 
been  dropped  in  the  stable  up  in  the  hills  and  found 
by  Sobrenski.  It  was  all  her  own  fault,  sheer  rank 
carelessness.  Emile  had  so  often  warned  her 
against  her  fatal  habit  of  leaving  everything  about. 
She  never  locked  uo  anything,  jewellery,  clothes, 
money  or  papers. 


THE  HIPPODROME  263 

Perhaps  in  the  hurry  of  dressing  that  night,  she 
had  only  taken  with  her  the  first  page,  and  when 
she  was  out  her  rooms  had  been  searched,  and  the 
rest  stolen.  Sobrenski  would  stop  at  nothing  to  get 
the  evidence  he  wanted.  If  she  accused  him  of  hav- 
ing taken  it  he  would  simply  deny  the  charge,  and 
to  seem  anxious  would  be  further  evidence  that  the 
letter  contained  something  that  would  compromise 
either  Vardri  or  herself.  In  any  case  it  appeared 
that  the  mischief  was  done.  To  expect  either  jus- 
tice or  mercy  from  her  enemy  was  out  of  the 
question.  She  would  try  and  fight  him  with  his 
own  weapon,  feign  ignorance,  tell  lies  if  necessary. 

"Vardri?     What  has  he  done?" 

The  note  of  surprise  in  her  voice  was  well  as- 
sumed and  she  could  control  her  face,  but  her  hands 
betrayed  her.  Sobrenski  had  seen  the  blue  veins 
stand  out  and  the  knuckles  whiten  unnaturally  with 
the  pressure  on  the  black  fan  she  carried  to  shield 
her  eyes  in  the  street. 

"  Done  ?  "  he  echoed  contemptuously.  "  Nothing 
so  far.  He  has  only  talked  and  written.  It  is  to 
provide  against  his  doing  anything  important  that 
the  Committee  have  decided  upon  his  removal. 
There  was  a  meeting  held  last  night  and  the  voting 
was  unanimous.  Vardri  has  been  condemned  as  a 


264  THE  HIPPODROME 

traitor  to  his  vows,  and  a  danger  to  everyone  con- 
nected with  our  work." 

"  Condemned  without  a  hearing!  "  the  girl  flamed 
out.  " Mon  Dieul  Your  justice!  What  has  he 
done?" 

"  Have  you  a  right  to  question  the  judgment  of 
the  Committee?"  The  voice  was  like  a  scourge 
falling  on  bare  flesh.  Arithelli  drew  her  shoulders 
together  involuntarily. 

"  No !  "  she  answered. 

"  Yet  you  do  it !  These  womanly  inconsistencies 
are  a  little  fatiguing." 

Sobrenski  caressed  his  beard  with  a  narrow, 
bloodless  hand,  on  the  middle  finger  of  which  was  a 
curious  ring  of  twisted  gold  wire. 

He  waited  to  see  if  she  would  make  any  further 
protest,  but  she  set  her  lips  firmly  and  refused  to 
speak.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said  on  her 
side.  Evidently  Sobrenski  had  found  the  letter,  and 
when  or  where  it  had  been  found  mattered  not  at  all. 
He  continued : 

"  The  sentence  has  been  passed  and  it  falls  upon 
you  to  execute  it." 

The  answer  came  back  swiftly: 

"And  if  I  refuse?" 

For  once  in  his  life  Sobrenski  was  taken  aback, 
and  experienced  a  new  sensation,  that  of  surprise. 


THE  HIPPODROME  265 

He  looked  at  her  with  almost  approval.  If  he  was 
cruel  he  was  also  courageous,  and  able  to  appre- 
ciate the  virtue  in  others. 

"You  know  what  your  refusal  implies?"  he 
questioned,  more  gently  than  he  had  yet  spoken. 
"  You  refused  some  time  ago  to  carry  a  message. 
You  will  perhaps  remember  that  I  gave  you  the 
choice  between  doing  as  you  were  told,  or — "  he 
gesticulated  expressively.  "  You  were  wise  then. 
I  hope  you  will  be  wise  now." 

Arithelli's  thoughts  were  going  at  racing  speed. 
No  one  could  be  long  in  a  room  alone  with  So- 
brenski  without  being  impressed  by  his  overpower- 
ing personality.  He  affected  her  in  a  way  that  no 
one  else  ever  did,  in  provoking  her  to  futile  out- 
bursts of  defiance  and  anger.  She  had  never  lost 
her  head  with  anyone  else,  but  he  always  made  her 
incapable  of  reasoning,  raging  one  minute,  and 
cowed  the  next.  Hitherto  Emile  had  always  been 
there  to  screen  and  protect  her,  to  stand  between 
her  and  her  enemy.  She  knew  now  why  he  had 
so  often  hoped  to  see  her  in  her  coffin. 

"  I  can't  murder !  I  undertook  to  work  for  the 
Cause,  but  not  that  —  Mon  Dieii!  not  that!" 

"  We  don't  talk  about  murder,"  Sobrenski 
sneered.  "  We  merely  '  remove '  those  who  have 
proved  themselves  untrustworthy.  You  undertook 


266  THE  HIPPODROME 

to  obey  orders,  I  believe.  You  may  contradict  me 
if  I  am  incorrect." 

He  leant  forward  with  the  glittering  eyes  of  the 
fanatic.  "  You  talk  of  murder  and  forget  that  to 
us  human  life  is  nothing.  Do  you  think  you  will 
save  Vardri  by  refusing?  Am  I  to  suppose  that 
he  has  infected  you  also  with  the  taint  of  disloyalty? 
It  is  your  business  to  loathe  a  traitor  as  we  do. 
You  wear  your  badge,  but  do  you  never  read  the 
words  on  it?  Poleski  used  to  tell  me  great  things 
of  your  enthusiasm,  your  devotion.  Now  I  am 
putting  you  to  the  test.  You  like  to  act  a  pictur- 
esque part,  it  seems,  to  wear  boy's  clothes,  to  sing, 
to  be  the  only  woman  among  us,  to  act  the  heroine. 
We  do  not  want  acting  here.  This  is  Life,  not  the 
stage.  Now  you  are  asked  to  give  a  practical 
proof  of  your  loyalty ! " 

The  pitiless  tongue  lashed,  and  Arithelli  shrank 
against  the  wall,  her  hands  over  her  eyes.  There 
had  been  stories  current  among  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  Barcelona  Anarchists  that  Sobrenski 
possessed  the  power  of  hypnotism  and  did  not  scru- 
ple to  use  it.  Some  of  the  most  daring  and  success- 
ful outrages  of  the  past  years  had  been  carried  out 
under  his  direction,  and  executed  by  these  youths. 
He  always  made  a  point  of  choosing  men  who  were 


THE  HIPPODROME  267 

highly  strung  and  impressionable.  He  was  known 
to  boast  that  after  three  interviews  with  him  he 
could  make  anyone,  either  man  or  woman,  into  a 
will-less  automaton. 

He  exhorted,  jeered,  encouraged  and  derided, 
finally  giving  Arithelli  five  minutes  in  which  to  make 
her  decision.  She  did  not  keep  him  waiting,  though 
he  could  scarcely  hear  the  murmured  words  of  as- 
sent. Her  nerve  was  broken  at  last.  She  would 
promise  anything,  do  anything  if  only  he  would  let 
her  go.  Dazed  with  fear  and  misery,  she  watched 
him  get  up,  unlock  a  drawer  of  the  bureau  and  come 
across  to  her  holding  out  something. 

"  I  shall  arrange  for  you  to  be  together  one  night 
up  in  the  hut.  I  don't  know  whether  you  have  any 
idea  of  shooting,  but  you  can  hardly  miss  at  such 
close  range." 

The  brutal  words  steadied  her,  and  drove  back 
the  feeling  of  mental  paralysis.  She  realised  sud- 
denly all  that  her  promise  meant.  Vardri  had 
given  her  love,  and  in  return  she  was  to  give 
him  Death!  Her  own  dawning  love  had  enabled 
her  to  see  more  clearly  what  his  devotion  meant. 
With  the  growth  of  a  woman's  soul  she  had  also 
begun  to  experience  womanly  emotions,  fear,  anxi- 
ety, the  need  of  sympathy  and  affection. 


268  THE  HIPPODROME 

She  snatched  the  pistol  from  Sobrenski's  hand, 
and  he  stepped  back  a  pace,  throwing  up  his  arm 
instinctively  as  she  raised,  levelled  and  fired. 

The  weapon  clicked  harmlessly,  her  hand  dropped 
to  her  side,  and  she  stood  shivering,  and  wondering 
at  her  own  madness.  The  whole  thing  had  been 
done  without  thinking,  as  an  animal  driven  into  a 
corner  turns,  snarling  and  showing  its  teeth. 

Sobrenski  recovered  himself  first  and  laughed. 

"  So  you  thought  it  was  loaded?  "  he  said.  "  Do 
you  take  me  for  a  fool  ?  Allow  me  to  congratulate 
you  on  your  —  failure !  " 

Then  changing  his  tone  of  sarcasm  to  command : 
"  You  must  hide  that  pistol  carefully.  Put  it  inside 
your  dress  or  somewhere  safe.  I  suppose  you 
would  like  to  march  down  the  Paseo  'de  Gracia, 
carrying  it  in  your  hand,  and  wearing  a  tragic  ex- 
pression,—  and  get  locked  up  by  the  first  agent  de 
police  you  meet !  You  have  pluck  enough,  but  you 
should  avoid  these  exhibitions  of  hysteria." 

He  gripped  her  by  the  shoulder,  swung  her  round, 
and  pointed  to  the  door,  "  Allez! " 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"My  crown  is  without  leaves, 
For  she  sits  in  the  dust  and  grieves, 
Now  we  are  come  to  our  kingdom." 

"Anthony  and  Cleopatra,"  KIPLING. 

ONCE  more  the  procession  of  conspirators  toiled 
on  its  way  up  the  irregular  mountain  path.  The 
horses  slipped  and  stumbled  under  their  unskilful 
riders,  the  mules  climbed  steadily  upwards.  No 
one  spoke. 

As  usual  Arithelli  led  the  way. 

Vardri,  who  had  arrived  last  of  all,  rode  forward 
to  join  her,  but  was  curtly  ordered  to  the  rear  by 
Sobrenski. 

They  should  see  enough  of  each  other  later  on, — 
when  it  was  time. 

Before  they  started  on  their  ride  he  spoke  to  Ari- 
thelli alone,  and  gave  her  his  final  instructions,  and 
saw  for  himself  that  the  pistol  she  wore  at  her 
belt  was  properly  charged.  He  never  left  anything 
to  chance,  especially  in  important  undertakings  such 
as  the  present  one. 

269 


2;o  THE  HIPPODROME 

"  There  will  not  be  a  long  meeting  to-night,"  he 
said.  "  You  will  have  an  hour  free  to  do  your  work. 
You  hear?" 

His  eyes  were  fixed  on  hers,  compelling  an  an- 
swer. None  came,  though  she  bowed  her  head  in 
token  of  acquiescence,  and  though  he  could  hear 
no  word  Sobrenski  was  satisfied.  He  had  seen  that 
shrinking  attitude,  that  mechanical  gesture  before. 
In  the  plot  to  assassinate  General  Morales  there 
had  been  a  young  Spanish  student  who  had  given 
some  trouble.  He  had  developed  a  conscience  at 
the  last  minute,  and  vowed  that  he  could  not  kill  an 
old  and  defenceless  man,  that  he  would  rather  die 
himself. 

He  had  died,  and  so  had  Morales,  and  both  by  the 
explosion  of  the  bomb  that  had  been  launched  by  the 
hand  of  the  former. 

Sobrenski  held  rightly  that  those  who  meddled 
with  politics  on  either  side  must  dispense  with  such 
useless  things  as  scruples. 

The  night  was  still  and  sultry,  with  a  full  moon 
hanging  low  in  the  sky.  The  weather  had  been 
unnaturally  warm  for  the  time  of  year,  all  day, 
down  in  the  city. 

They  were  all  glad  when  they  had  mounted  above 
the  sea-level. 


THE  HIPPODROME  271 

There  was  a  little  breeze  met  them,  and  the  tired 
and  patiently  plodding  horses  raised  their  heads. 

Arithelli  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  as  she 
shifted  in  her  saddle,  and  glanced  back  to  see  if 
they  were  all  in  sight. 

The  manta  in  which  she  was  wrapped  stifled  her, 
and  the  weight  of  her  own  hair  under  the  wig  and 
sombrero  made  her  head  ache  and  throb  violently. 

As  they  rode  she  rehearsed  her  plans  in  her  own 
mind,  telling  herself  over  and  over  again  the  things 
that  she  must  say  and  do  when  she  was  alone  with 
Vardri. 

To-night  would  see  Sobrenski's  triumph,  his 
grand  coup,  and  when  it  was  all  over  perhaps  she 
would  have  peace. 

How  slowly  they  all  seemed  to  ride,  she  thought. 
She  wondered  how  many  of  the  other  men  knew 
that  she  was  chosen  to  act  the  part  of  murderess. 
Some  of  them  had  been  kind  to  her  in  a  rough  way, 
especially  the  older  ones. 

But  even  if  they  did  pity  her  a  little,  not  one 
among  them  but  would  expect  her  to  do  the  thing 
that  they  would  consider  obviously  her  duty. 

No  one  would  raise  a  voice  on  her  behalf,  what- 
ever their  private  sentiments. 

The  majority  of  them  would  probably  look  upon 


2;2  THE  HIPPODROME 

her  as  a  heroine,  for  she  would  have  rid  them  of  a 
spy,  a  traitor. 

She  could  only  hope  that  she  might  keep  her 
brain  clear,  her  courage  firm  till  the  supreme  mo- 
ment. 

Once  in  the  course  of  that  awful  day  her  nerves 
had  given  out  in  physical  collapse,  and  her  shaking 
hands  had  let  fall  the  mirror  of  Agnes  Sorel. 

It  lay  on  the  floor  in  her  bedroom,  broken  in  three 
places. 

Her  early  days  in  Ireland  had  given  her  a  belief 
in  the  omens  of  good  and  evil,  for  in  the  "  emerald 
gem  of  the  Western  world  "  superstition  runs  riot. 

The  faith  in  it  was  in  her  blood,  though  it  needed 
no  broken  mirror  to  tell  her  what  dread  thing 
awaited  her,  towards  which  she  must  advance, 
urged  by  fate. 

She  had  only  written  one  letter,  and  that  one  was 
to  Emile.  Now  that  he  was  gone  there  was  no  one 
else  who  cared. 

Something  told  her  now  that  his  last  words  had 
only  been  an  attempt  to  comfort  her,  to  ease  her 
mind,  and  that  she  would  wait  in  vain  for  his  re- 
turn. 

Estelle  would  weep  for  a  little  while,  and  drink  a 
great  deal  to  drown  her  tears,  and  then  forget. 

They  were  nearly  at  the  hut  now.     She  could 


THE  HIPPODROME  273 

see  it,  a  grotesque  shadow  thrown  across  the  sil- 
vered earth. 

She  slipped  off  and  walked,  leading  her  mule 
by  the  bridle. 

Behind  her  were  subdued  curses,  the  rattle  of  slip- 
ping hoofs  and  falling  stones,  as  the  animals  climbed 
the  last  and  steepest  piece  of  road,  which  ended  in 
the  plateau  on  which  the  building  stood. 

In  front  of  it  was  a  single  large  tree,  but  most  of 
the  ground  close  by  bore  nothing  higher  than  dwarf 
shrubs  and  long  grass. 

When  the  cavalcade  drew  up  and  dismounted, 
Vardri  was  discovered  to  be  missing. 

He  had  been  late  in  starting,  lagged  behind  the 
others  and  dropped  out  of  sight  before  they  were 
scarcely  clear  of  the  town.  Being  the  last  of  the 
file  his  disappearance  had  not  at  first  been  remarked. 

Sobrenski  refused  to  allow  of  time  being  wasted 
in  a  search. 

He  ordered  the  rest  of  the  men  up  into  the  loft, 
and  Arithelli  to  her  work  of  unharnessing. 

He  himself  remained  standing  in  the  shadow  of 
the  doorway,  his  eyes  narrowed  with  anger,  his  thin 
lips  compressed  till  they  were  merely  a  line. 

Here  was  a  complication  that  he  had  not  fore- 
seen. For  the  first  time  in  his  life  his  wit  and  cun- 
ning had  been  at  fault. 


274  THE  HIPPODROME 

He  must  have  been  mad  not  to  have  kept  a 
sharper  lookout  on  Vardri,  but  he  had  reckoned 
he  was  secure  with  Arithelli  as  decoy. 

Could  it  be  possible  that  she  had  been  mad  enough 
to  warn  Vardri  ?  If  so,  then  why  was  she  here  her- 
self? 

Either  she  had  more  courage  or  else  she  was 
more  foolish  even  than  he  could  have  believed  it 
possible  for  a  female  creature  to  be.  Women  took 
good  care  of  their  own  skins  in  general ! 

If  Vardri  meant  to  try  and  escape,  surely  they 
would  have  gone  together. 

Perhaps  his,  Sobrenski's,  detailed  descriptions  of 
the  fate  of  others  who  had  attempted  flight  had 
made  her  decide  that  it  would  be  safer  to  remain 
and  throw  herself  on  the  mercy  of  himself  and  his 
companions. 

He  might  have  miscalculated  the  force  of  her  at- 
traction for  Vardri,  but  he  felt  perfectly  certain 
that  she  was  reduced  to  a  state  of  mechanical  imbe- 
cility. She  could  not  escape  now  at  all  events, 
even  if  she  suddenly  changed  her  mind. 

He  would  give  them  both  five  minutes,  and  then  if 
Vardri  did  not  appear  — ! 

He  began  to  walk  up  and  down  outside,  like  some 
prowling  animal  awaiting  its  prey. 


THE  HIPPODROME  275 

At  regular  intervals  his  shadow  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  the  patch  of  light  from  the  open  door. 

Meanwhile  Vardri  was  riding  leisurely  up  the 
slope,  reining  back  his  horse,  and  stopping  at  inter- 
vals to  put  a  fair  distance  between  himself  and  the 
others.  He  intended  to  make  a  chance  of  seeing 
Arithelli  alone  again,  so  he  meant  to  wait  till  the 
whole  crew,  and  especially  Sobrenski,  were  safely 
embarked  on  their  eternal  discussions.  Then  he 
would  slip  in  and  help  her  with  the  animals,  and 
live  in  Paradise  again  for  a  little  space  of  time. 

He  had  been  to  her  rooms  earlier  in  the  day  but 
she  had  sent  down  a  message  to  beg  him  to  ex- 
cuse her.  She  had  a  headache,  and  was  lying  down, 
so  he  had  been  obliged  to  go  away  unsolaced,  and 
longing  for  the  evening. 

Now  that  she  had  given  him  her  promise  to  go 
with  him  to  Austria,  there  was  only  to  arrange  the 
day  and  the  hour  of  their  departure.  For  once  he 
was  alive  to  the  necessity  for  prompt  action.  There 
was  her  safety  to  be  considered  now.  When  he 
had  been  alone  it  had  not  mattered  how  anything 
was  done  or  not  done,  but  now  everything  was  dif- 
ferent. The  world  itself  was  another  place.  He 
had  already  actually  written  and  posted  a  tentative 
letter  to  his  father,  such  a  letter  as  he  could  never 


276  THE  HIPPODROME 

have  written  if  only  his  interests  had  been  concerned, 
but  he  found  any  sacrifice  an  easy  one  now,  even 
the  sacrifice  of  pride. 

There  was  no  reason  why  they  should  not  start 
to-morrow.  It  would  be  safer  to  get  out  of  the 
place  by  going  round  by  the  Mediterranean  and 
thence  across  by  way  of  Italy. 

Water-travelling  was  cheaper,  too.  He  laughed 
to  himself  to  think  how  practical  he  was  becoming. 
How  strange  it  would  seem  to  live  in  a  civilised 
fashion  again,  to  not  be  obliged  to  look  at  every 
sou  before  it  was  spent,  to  have  servants  to  wait 
upon  one;  enough  to  eat  and  drink,  and  the  luxury 
of  cleanliness. 

Yet  the  vagabond  life  had  had  its  charm,  too. 
He  had  encountered  kindness  often,  generally  from 
those  in  more  evil  plight  than  his  own,  and  there 
had  been  flowers  and  music  and  sunshine.  True,  he 
had  felt  horribly  ill  and  dejected  on  some  days,  and 
his  wretched  cough  was  an  annoyance  to  himself 
and  to  other  people,  but  at  times  he  felt  ready  for 
anything,  and  more  energetic  than  any  three  of 
those  lazy  Spaniards. 

Love  and  Arithelli  would  be  a  sure  antidote  for 
any  misery  or  disease.  For  her  he  had  created  a 
House  of  Dreams,  and  now  the  dreams  were  on  the 
verge  of  becoming  realities.  Instead  of  the  sand 


THE  HIPPODROME  277 

and  stones  of  that  desert  that  men  call  Life,  a  rain- 
bow-coloured future  lay  stretched  out  before  him. 
Sunshine  and  the  summertime  of  love,  all  that  he 
had  ever  hoped  for,  were  coming  nearer.  And  joy 
was  hovering  near  at  hand,  till  he  could  almost 
touch  her  flying  robe.  Soon  he  would  hold  her  in 
his  arms,  would  possess  her  entirely. 

How  different  Arithelli  was  from  all  other 
women!  With  her  there  was  never  caprice  or 
fickleness.  Whatever  she  said  was  his  law,  what- 
ever she  wished  to  do  was  the  right  thing. 

Now  he  had  abjured  the  Revolution,  his  father 
would  be  only  too  glad  to  have  him  back,  to  see  him 
married  to  a  woman  of  Arithelli's  charm  and  breed- 
ing. There  had  never  been  any  quarrel  with  his 
family,  except  when  he  had  joined  the  Red  Flag 
party,  and  it  was  only  natural  that  they  should 
quarrel  over  that.  Love  or  the  Revolution? 
There  would  never  be  any  more  doubt  now  as  to 
which  he  would  choose. 

In  the  old  days  he  had  preferred  starvation,  and 
the  freedom  to  act,  and  think  as  he  liked.  He  had 
gloried  in  being  an  outcast,  in  suffering  for  the 
Cause.  Life  had  been  hard  at  times,  but  he  had 
known  men  of  ideals  and  enthusiasms  and  there 
had  been  a  certain  fascination  in  the  excitement  of 
being  hunted.  But  now  that  was  all  over  and  a 


278  THE  HIPPODROME 

new  day  was  dawning  for  them  both,  for  himself 
and  for  Arithelli. 

He  spoke  to  his  horse  and  stirred  it  into  a 
quicker  pace. 

They  must  be  well  out  of  the  way  and  she  would 
think  he  was  never  coming. 

Inside  the  stable  Arithelli,  tall  and  straight  in 
her  scarlet  shirt,  moved  to  and  fro  at  her  work, 
hanging  up  saddles  and  bridles,  carrying  pails  of 
water,  ranging  on  either  side  of  the  hut  the  horses 
and  the  mules.  Tortured  as  she  was  with  anxiety, 
she  did  not  forget  the  wants  of  her  friends  the  ani- 
mals. It  came  across  her  mind  how  once  when  she 
had  said  to  Vardri,  "  Let  us  see  to  the  horses  first," 
he  had  said  half  in  jest,  "  If  I  were  a  Spaniard  I 
should  be  jealous.  You  always  think  of  the  ani- 
mals before  everything  else." 

One  by  one  the  rest  of  the  conspirators  tramped 
heavily  up  the  ladder,  leaving  her  alone  with  So- 
brenski,  who  stood  with  his  back  to  the  doorway, 
following  her  with  his  eyes  as  she  moved  to  and 
fro  in  the  shadows  cast  by  the  solitary  lamps. 

Before  he  mounted  the  ladder  in  his  turn,  he 
came  across  the  hut,  took  her  by  the  shoulder  and 
spoke  to  her.  "  Be  careful  how  you  do  your  work, 
for  if  it  is  not  well  done  others  will  do  it  for  you." 


THE  HIPPODROME  279 

She  could  not  answer;  she  shuddered  at  his  touch; 
her  hands  went  up  and  covered  her  face. 

Sobrenski  turned  and  mounted  the  worn  rungs 
of  the  narrow  ladder  with  a  lithe,  active  step.  He 
was  quite  sure  of  her  now.  She  would  not  fail  to 
carry  out  his  will 


CHAPTER  XXII 
"  II  n'y  a  que  1'amour  et  la  mort." 

FOR  a  few  minutes  after  he  had  gone,  Arithelli 
stood  motionless,  still  with  her  hands  pressed 
tightly  over  her  eyes,  trying  to  command  her  brain 
to  work  clearly.  Her  will  and  her  limbs  seemed 
paralysed.  She  could  only  wait  for  Vardri's  ap- 
proach. Once  she  prayed  an  inarticulate  wordless 
prayer,  that  inspiration  might  be  sent  her  to  find  a 
way  out  of  this  impasse  in  which  there  seemed 
neither  light  nor  opening. 

Time  was  passing,  and  every  moment  was  bring- 
ing her  nearer  the  most  appalling  destiny  that 
could  ever  be  meted  out  to  any  woman.  If  she  did 
Sobrenski's  bidding  she  would  be  not  only  a  mur- 
deress, but  the  murderess  of  the  being  she  loved 
most  in  the  world.  Vardri,  who  was  so  different 
from  all  the  other  men;  Vardri,  who  could  never 
bear  anything  to  be  hurt,  or  even  to  be  made  uncom- 
fortable. She  knew  that  it  was  perfectly  useless  for 
both  of  them  to  attempt  to  escape.  Someone  was 

280 


THE  HIPPODROME  281 

most  likely  posted  at  the  window  of  the  loft,  they 
would  get  no  distance  on  foot  without  being  over- 
taken, and  if  she  attempted  to  lead  out  any  of  the 
horses  or  mules,  the  noise  would  probably  attract 
attention. 

Her  hands  fell  to  her  side,  and  her  head  went  up 
as  she  listened  intently.  So  he  was  coming,  after 
all.  In  that  undisturbed  space  and  clear  dry  air, 
sound  travelled  quickly,  and  she  could  hear  the  ap- 
proaching hoof -beats  while  he  was  still  some  way 
off.  With  the  knowledge  of  his  approach  the 
blood  flowed  again  warmly  in  her  veins  and  cour- 
age and  decision  came  back  to  her.  Her  senses, 
unnaturally  acute,  told  her  that  Vardri  had  now 
dismounted  and  was  leading  his  horse.  She  could 
distinguish  his  footsteps,  and  then  the  monotonous 
regular  footfalls  of  his  mount.  She  ran  out  into 
the  patch  of  moonlight,  casting  a  hurried  backward 
glance  at  the  side  of  the  hut.  Thank  God!  the 
window  was  on  the  other  side ! 

Vardri  was  coming  slowly  towards  her,  his 
horse's  bridle  over  his  arm.  Before  she  covered 
the  distance  between  them  she  made  a  gesture  that 
enjoined  silence  and  stopped  his  greeting.  "  Don't 
bring  your  horse  in,"  she  whispered.  "  Tie  him 
up  out  of  the  way  over  there,  a  good  way  off  the 
hut.  I'll  explain  presently." 


282  THE  HIPPODROME 

In  another  moment  Vardri  was  beside  her  in 
the  hut  and  had  her  in  his  arms. 

"  What  is  it,  mon  petit?  There  must  be  some- 
thing wrong.  Has  Sobrenski — ?" 

"  No,  no,  he  has  done  nothing.  It's  just  that  I 
don't  want  you  to  be  up  here  too  long  to-night.  I 
want  you  to  do  something  for  me.  Will  you,  Var- 
dri?" 

"  Do  you  think  you'll  need  to  ask  me  twice  to 
do  anything  for  you,  dear?  " 

He  stood  with  his  hands  on  her  shoulders,  his 
dark  eyes  gazing  down  at  her  hungrily.  "  Did 
you  think  I  was  never  coming?  I  stayed  behind 
on  purpose.  I  felt  that  Sobrenski  intended  to  pre- 
vent our  talking  together."  Arithelli  snatched 
eagerly  at  his  words.  They  had  given  her  the  clue 
she  wanted. 

"  Yes,  that's  it.  It's  dangerous  for  me  if  we  are 
seen  often  together.  I've  done  something  so  mad 
and  foolish,  Vardri,  you  must  help  me  to  put  it 
right, —  you  can.  Those  letters  you  have  written 
me  saying  all  sorts  of  things  against  the  Cause, — 
I  left  a  piece  of  one  about  somewhere, — I  don't 
know  where, — and  Sobrenski  found  it.  He  has 
just  told  me  that  in  about  half  an  hour's  time  be- 
fore all  the  rest  of  them  leave,  he  is  going  to  send 
on  one  of  the  men  in  advance.  He  will  get  down 


THE  HIPPODROME  283 

to  the  town  before  us,  go  to  my  rooms  and  yours 
and  collect  all  the  letters  that  have  passed  between 
us;  and  use  them,  as  then  he  will  have  what  he  has 
always  wanted, —  the  proofs  that  we  are  what  he 
would  call  traitors.  And  when  he  has  these 
proofs,  neither  of  us  will  be  safe  for  an  instant. 
It  will  mean  death  to  both  of  us  sooner  or  later. 
But  even  Sobrenski  can't  murder  us  without  suf- 
ficient evidence.  He  will  be  obliged  to  make  some 
formal  parade  of  justice  to  put  it  all  before  the  rest 
of  the  society.  If  he  doesn't  get  our  letters  he 
will  not  have  sufficient  evidence." 

"  But  if  we  go  away  together  to-night,  as  we  in- 
tended? We've  got  a  start.  We  can  take  the  best 
horses.  That  is  the  best  plan." 

Arithelli  shook  her  head.  "  Listen  to  me,  dear, 
and  believe  in  a  woman's  wisdom  for  once.  If 
we  go  to-night  and  together,  we  are  bound  to  be  re- 
captured before  we  are  out  of  Barcelona.  By  do- 
ing what  I  suggest  we  avoid  suspicion,  we  give 
ourselves  breathing-space,  time  to  arrange  a  dis- 
guise, to  think  of  all  sorts  of  things  that  we  have 
overlooked.  We  have  everything  in  our  favour 
to-night,  Sobrenski  does  not  know  you  are  here  yet. 
If  you  go  soon  you  will  get  away  without  his  hav- 
ing seen  you  at  all.  H,ere  is  the  key  of  my  room. 
Go  there  first,  and  you  will  find  all  your  own  letters 


284  THE  HIPPODROME 

in  a  wooden  box  in  my  big  trunk.  That  isn't 
locked.  Open  it  and  burn  them  all.  Then  go  on 
to  your  own  room,  do  the  same  with  yours  and  stay 
there.  If  they  raid  my  room,  they  will  find  noth- 
ing suspicious.  You  could  pretend  you  were  ill, 
and  that's  the  only  reason  you  haven't  come  to- 
night, and  I  am  here  doing  my  work  as  usual. 
Nothing  could  be  less  suspicious.  Then  when  they 
are  off  their  guard  we  can  escape." 

The  minutes  were  flying,  Death  thrusting  his 
lean  face  before  the  rosy  face  of  Love.  Sobren- 
ski's  phrase  sounded  in  her  ears  like  the  toll- 
ing of  a  bell.  "  You  have  an  hour  free  to  do  your 
work."  An  hour,  only  an  hour!  How  long  had 
they  been  there  already?  Time  and  all  else  alike 
seemed  blurred.  All  her  will  must  be  concentrated 
upon  one  thing  —  to  make  Vardri  leave  her  as 
quickly  as  possible.  Yet  she  dare  not  show  a  sign 
of  haste  or  emotion  lest  he  should  suspect  some- 
thing amiss  and  refuse  to  go. 

"  Dear,  it  is  a  wonderful  plan  this,  of  yours," 
Vardri  was  saying.  "  But  how  can  I  leave  you 
here  alone  with  these  devils?  It  makes  me  cold  to 
think  of  it." 

"  You'll  leave  me  because  I  shall  be  safer  alone. 
You  must  see  that,  won  ami"  She  clung  to  him, 
putting  up  her  face  towards  his.  Every  art  of 


THE  HIPPODROME  285 

womanhood  must  be  used  to  weave  a  spell  to  send 
him  from  her  and  to  save  him.  "  Will  you  not 
do  as  I  ask  you  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you,"  the  boy 
broke  out  eagerly ;  "  I'd  have  my  hand  cut  off  to 
save  you  a  minute's  pain." 

"  I  know,  mon  ami.  And  this  is  such  a  little 
thing,  and  so  much  depends  upon  its  being  done 
quickly." 

What  was  that?  A  step  on  the  ladder?  She 
could  not  control  a  violent  start.  No,  it  was  only 
a  creaking  rung,  a  stamp  from  one  of  the  mules. 

"  But  you  haven't  broken  your  promise  to  me. 
You  swear  to  come  away  with  me  soon?  " 

"  To-morrow  if  you  will.  Once  the  letters  are 
burnt  we  are  almost  safe.  Only  one  day  more.  It 
doesn't  make  any  difference." 

"  It  does  to  me,  mon  petit.  Every  moment,  every 
hour  without  you  is  time  wasted." 

"  But  you'll  go,  dear,  before  Sobrenski  sees  us 
together?  " 

"  My  sweet,  if  it  is  for  your  good,  of  course  I 
will  go.  You're  right  about  the  letters;  I  ought  to 
have  known  it  wasn't  safe  to  keep  them.  As  you 
say,  they've  got  no  circumstantial  evidence  if  those 
are  destroyed,  and  it  only  means  a  few  more  hours' 
delay  in  our  getting  off.  I'll  go,  darling.  I'll  get 


286  THE  HIPPODROME 

down  the  hills  in  no  time.  It's  the  best  horse  of  the 
lot,  that  one  outside.  But  before  I  go  give  me 
yourself  for  a  few  minutes." 

Arithelli  let  him  lead  her  unresisting  towards  the 
corner  of  the  hut,  and  lay  her  gently  back  upon  a 
truss  of  hay  that  he  had  covered  with  a  cloak.  She 
had  not  the  strength  to  deny  him  their  last  few  min- 
utes together.  Every  fibre  in  her  own  nature,  the 
lover,  the  mother,  the  child,  were  all  crying  out  for 
him.  How  gentle  he  had  been,  how  he  had  always 
cared  for  her.  No  one  had  ever  touched  her  like 
this  before,  spoken  to  her  in  this  caressing  voice. 
Emile  had  been  kind  in  his  way,  but  he  had  been 
always  rough.  Her  own  emotions  had  always  lain 
buried  deeply,  and  now  they  had  been  called  to  life 
she  longed  for  the  natural  expression  of  her  love 
through  the  medium  of  physical  things,  by  word 
and  touch. 

"  Now  for  my  reward,"  Vardri  said.  "  I  want 
to  take  your  hair  down." 

Arithelli  bent  her  head  towards  him  without 
speaking  and  he  drew  the  pins,  and  undid  the  braid 
with  deft  fingers,  spreading  it  out  till  it  covered  her 
as  with  a  veil. 

"  If  only  I  could  paint  you!  How  beautiful  you 
are  to-night,  but  how  still  and  cold!  Fatalite,  tell 
me  you  love  me  a  little,  won  cceur!" 


THE  HIPPODROME  287 

She  put  her  arms  round  his  neck,  laying  her  cheek 
against  his.  "  Mon  ami,  I  love  you !  " 

He  held  her  in  his  arms  as  one  holds  a  child,  rock- 
ing her  to  and  fro.  "  Volla  cherie! "  he  whispered. 
"  After  to-morrow  I  shall  have  you  always,  I  shall 
never  let  you  go  again.  My  dream  is  coming  true." 

Arithelli  listened  with  dry  eyes  and  an  aching 
heart.  She  was  past  crying,  and  her  brain  felt 
curiously  reasonable  and  alert.  She  could  not  send 
him  from  her  at  once,  yet  with  every  passing  second 
Death  drew  stealthily  nearer  and  nearer.  Time 
swept  on  relentless  and  inflexible. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  be  disappointed  in  me  one  of 
these  days,  find  me  depressing  and  full  of  moods. 
I've  always  been  so  lonely,  you  know,  till  I  met  you. 
Je  suis  une  ame  detachee." 

"  Never  again  while  I'm  alive !  I  think  of  you 
and  with  you.  When  you  are  happy  I  know  it,  and 
when  you  are  miserable  I  know  it  too.  Fatalite! 
Fatalite !  believe  that  I  don't  want  anything  in  re- 
turn. I'll  wait  on  you,  work  for  you,  lie,  starve, 
steal,  do  anything.  I  only  want  to  know  you're 
there,  to  have  the  right  to  serve  you,  to  feel  you 
don't  hate  me.  I  couldn't  go  on  living  if  I  lost  you. 
Since  the  first  day  I  saw  you  at  the  Hippodrome 
you've  haunted  me.  I  led  Don  Juan  down  to  the 
entrance  to  the  ring.  You  don't  remember  ?  How 


288  THE  HIPPODROME 

should  you?  I've  never  forgotten!  You  smiled 
and  thanked  me.  You  looked  so  strange  beside 
Estelle  and  those  other  women." 

He  was  kneeling  beside  her,  his  lips  pressed 
against  the  hollow  of  her  arm,  from  which  the  loose 
red  sleeve  had  slipped  back  to  above  the  elbow. 
Under  his  passionate  words  Arithelli  sat  like  a  be- 
ing entranced,  unseeing,  unhearing.  The  inscruta- 
ble eyes  set  in  the  rigid  face  gave  her  the  likeness 
to  some  carven  thing. 

"Fatalite!     Fatalite!" 

The  sound  of  his  voice  came  to  her  as  from  a  dis- 
tance. She  roused  herself,  and  tried  to  smile. 
"Mon  ami,  I'm  a  little  tired  to-night,  a  little  nerv- 
ous; I  was  thinking  about  the  letters!  I  shall  feel 
so  much  safer  when  they're  burnt" 

"  I'll  go  at  once  —  just  one  moment.  Arithelli, 
you  do  believe  that  I  love  you,  and  that  I  want 
nothing?  See,  I'll  not  even  touch  your  hand  if  it 
doesn't  please  you." 

The  soft  hand  was  laid  gently  on  his.  "  But  if 
it  does  please  me,  won  camarade  — " 

"  Dieu!  How  sweet  you  are !  But  don't  call  me 
'  Camarade/  mon  petit.  Those  wolves  above  call 
each  other  that !  " 

"  I  won't,  if  you  hate  it.  Yes,  that's  really  love 
to  give  all  and  take  nothing."  Arithelli  spoke 


THE  HIPPODROME  289 

dreamily.  "  Emile  made  me  sing  to  him  before  he 
went  away ;  you  remember  '  L' Adieu  '  of  Schubert  ? 
He  loved  it. 

"  La  mart  est  une  amie, 
Qui  rend  la  liberte." 

"  C'est  bien  vrai  ca !  I  used  to  sing  it  without 
thinking  at  one  time.  How  alike  all  those  songs 
are.  Always  Death;  —  Death  and  Liberty!" 

"  Don't  talk  of  those  things,  dear.  It's  going  to 
be  Life  for  both  of  us  —  after  to-morrow." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  poor  Emile." 

"  He  was  always  fond  of  you.  He'll  be  glad 
when  he  hears  you're  married  and  safe." 

"  Yes,  he'll  be  glad.  Don't  talk  any  more  for  a 
minute,  dear,  then  just  say  au  revoir  to  me  and  go 
as  quickly  as  you  can.  I  want  to  be  quiet.  It's 
good  to  be  loved.  How  gentle  you  are !  Emile  was 
always  so  rough  when  he  touched  me." 

Vardri  hung  over  her,  caressing  her  with  infinite 
tenderness.  Of  all  men  in  the  world  he  was  surely 
the  happiest  to  have  known  this  sweet  and  womanly 
Arithelli,  the  Arithelli  that  no  one  else  had  ever 
seen.  He  kissed  the  heavy,  closed  lids  and  stroked 
back  the  hair  from  her  forehead. 

A  faint  intoxicating  odour  of  jasmine  hovered 
about  her,  for  she  was  Eastern  in  her  love  of  per- 


290  THE  HIPPODROME 

fumes.  The  stifling,  dirty  hut  became  a  Paradise 
while  she  lay  thus  in  his  arms. 

Once  again  they  kissed  and  clung  together. 
Though  Arithelli's  lips  burnt,  they  scorched  with 
the  fires  of  despair  rather  than  with  those  of  passion. 

In  silence  Vardri  helped  her  to  her  feet,  and  they 
walked  together  to  the  door. 

"  You'll  come  to  me  to-morrow,"  Arithelli  said. 

"  To-morrow  we  shall  be  safe.  We'll  be  out  of 
this  hell  altogether  in  another  day  or  two,  a  la  bonne 
heure!  You're  not  afraid,  Fatalite?  " 

"  I  shan't  be  —  when  the  letters  are  safe.  Take 
care  of  yourself,  man  ami,  et  a  bientot!  " 

"  Mon  Dieu!  what  pluck  you  have !  How  I  love 
you  for  it !  Go  back  and  rest,  dear,  till  those  brutes 
come  down.  Give  me  your  hand  again,  Fatalite, 
bien  aimee!  gardez-vous,  mats  gardez-vous! " 

She  answered  him  steadily.  "A  demain. 
Adieu,  mon  ami.  Ride  as  quickly  as  you  can,  but 
lead  your  horse  for  the  first  few  minutes." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
"Le  jeu  est  fait,  rien  ne  vas  plus!" 

HE  was  gone,  and  Arithelli  was  back  in  the  hut 
again,  and  now  the  worst  of  it  all  was  still  to  come. 
If  Vardri  was  to  have  a  fair  start  she  must  wait  out 
the  hour  alone,  realising  every  moment  of  the  time 
what  awaited  her  at  the  end  of  it. 

A  mad  impulse  seized  her  to  rush  up  the  steps  to 
the  loft,  interrupt  the  meeting,  defy  them  all  and 
boast  how  she  had  schemed  her  lover's  escape,  and 
laugh  at  them  and  their  plots,  goad  them  into  shoot- 
ing her  at  once  and  finishing  it  all  quickly.  She 
felt  that  she  could  not  endure  any  more  suspense 
and  strain.  Anything  would  be  better  than  this  in- 
terminable, awful  waiting  in  the  semi-darkness  and 
loneliness,  with  neither  friend  nor  lover  at  hand, 
no  single  human  to  take  her  part  or  defend  her. 
Emile  had  gone  and  now  Vardri,  and  she  must  face 
everything  alone.  If  she  waited  Vardri  would  have 
perhaps  half  an  hour's  grace  and  while  they  were 
dealing  with  her  it  would  give  him  still  another  few 
minutes,  and  every  minute  counted. 

291 


292  THE  HIPPODROME 

She  fought  down  the  temptation,  and  began  to 
move  about,  speaking  to  the  mules  and  horses,  tak- 
ing down  saddles  and  bridles.  She  must  not  be  too 
quiet,  or  they  might  suspect  something,  and  come 
down  sooner  to  see  if  she  were  still  there.  She  must 
pretend  to  be  busy,  play  out  the  play  to  the  end. 

She  unhooked  the  lantern  from  its  nail  and  placed 
it  on  the  ground,  and  then  stood  still  again  to  listen. 

The  smothered  hum  of  voices  grew  louder  over- 
head. It  stopped  suddenly,  and  she  could  only  hear 
Sobrenski's  slow,  incisive  tones.  No  doubt  they 
were  listening  to  him  as  to  one  inspired  while  he 
preached  his  gospel  of  destruction.  Arithelli  shiv- 
ered, pressing  her  hands  over  her  ears  that  she 
might  shut  out  the  sound  of  that  hated  voice  that 
had  bidden  her  outrage  her  sex. 

She  stumbled  towards  the  bed  of  hay,  still  warm 
with  the  impress  of  her  own  figure,  and  flung  her- 
self upon  it  face  downwards  and  lay  there  whisper- 
ing to  herself  over  and  over  again  Vardri's  name  as 
one  whispers  a  charm. 

Would  he  forget  her  one  of  these  days  and  marry 
someone  else?  Had  it  been  real,  anything  of  this 
that  she  had  lived  through  during  these  months  in 
Spain  ?  Was  she  still  that  same  "  Arithelli  of  the 
Hippodrome  "  who  had  come  gaily  into  Barcelona 
with  her  ridiculous  dresses  and  her  belief  in  herself 


THE  HIPPODROME  293 

and  her  career?  She  had  known  an  hour  of  love 
and  passion,  and  that  had  been  worth  all  the  rest. 
Emile  had  always  told  her  that  people  were  not 
meant  to  be  happy  long  ici-bas.  She  must  pay  now 
for  her  hour.  The  gods  were  angry  and  must  have 
a  sacrifice. 

After  she  had  been  out  in  Barcelona  only  a  week, 
Emile  had  taken  her  to  one  of  the  gambling-hells  of 
the  place,  where  the  lights  and  mirrors  and  gilding 
hurt  her  tired  eyes,  and  the  croupiers  called  inces- 
santly through  the  strained  silence,  "  Le  jeu  est  fait. 
Rien  ne  vas  plus!  " 

It  was  like  that  with  her  now,  "  Le  jeu  est  fait." 
How  that  sentence  beat  in  her  brain!  She  won- 
dered if  she  were  becoming  delirious.  Then  she 
was  on  her  feet,  and  her  hand  went  to  the  Browning 
pistol  at  her  belt.  Sobrenski's  figure  had  appeared 
at  the  top  of  the  ladder.  He  was  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hand,  and  peering  forward  into  the  gloom. 
Only  one  of  them  there !  The  girl  or  Vardri,  which 
was  it? 

Then  the  whole  place  was  in  darkness,  for  Ari- 
thelli  had  overturned  and  extinguished  the  solitary 
lamp.  The  excited  whinny  of  a  horse  mingled  with 
the  sound  of  two  shots  fired  in  rapid  succession,  a 
rustling  noise  among  the  hay,  a  groan,  and  silence. 
Before  he  set  foot  on  the  ladder  Sobrenski  shouted 


294  THE  HIPPODROME 

to  the  rest  of  the  conspirators  to  bring  a  light.  He 
did  not  wait  to  look  at  the  prone  figure,  but  made 
straight  for  the  door.  His  business  it  was  first  to 
see  whether  his  quarry  were  still  in  sight. 

All  the  other  men  were  hustling  each  other  in  a 
hasty  descent.  "  Que  diable! "  one  of  them  said. 
"  What  is  it  now  ?  A  spy  ?  " 

The  man  who  had  lowered  Arithelli  from  the 
window  of  the  house  in  the  Calle  de  Pescadores, 
made  his  way  first  to  where  Arithelli  lay  and  stood 
beside  her.  He  could  only  see  dimly  the  outline  of 
a  figure  which  might  have  been  either  that  of  a  man 
or  woman.  "  Bring  a  light  here,"  Valdez  called  im- 
patiently. "Which  of  them  is  it?"  Though  he 
was  a  revolutionist  he  was  still  a  human  being,  and 
he  had  always  been  as  sorry  for  her  as  he  had  dared 
allow  himself  to  be,  and  he  hoped  it  was  not  the 
girl.  Another  man  came  up  carrying  a  lantern,  and 
flashed  the  light  on  what  rested  motionless  at  their 
feet.  Arithelli  lay  on  her  face  as  she  had  fallen. 
Her  hair  streamed  over  her  shoulders  and  mingled 
with  the  dark  folds  of  the  cloak.  The  hand  that 
still  held  the  pistol  was  flung  wide. 

"  It's  not  Vardri,"  the  other  man  said.  "  Is 
it — ?"  Sobrenski  cut  across  the  question.  "A 
traitor,"  he  said.  "  What  does  it  matter  about  the 
name?  Get  back  all  of  you  and  see  to  the  horses. 


THE  HIPPODROME  295 

There  should  be  two  of  them  and  there's  only  one 
here.     We've  got  to  find  the  other  one." 

With  a  sudden  brusque  movement  Valdez  knelt 
down,  turned  the  limp  body  over,  and  rested  the 
head  upon  his  knee.  "-Pardieu!"  he  ejaculated  as 
he  let  it  fall  gently  back.  "  It's  Fatalite!  " 


THE  END 


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